


The Incident, or, Everything That Happened Before Everything That Happened

by thehousewedestroyed



Series: The Real Relationship Was The House We Destroyed Along The Way [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 5+1 Things, Christmas Eve, Consensual Underage Sex, Eavesdropping, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Friends With Benefits, From Sex to Love, Gender or Sex Swap, Genderfluid James Potter, Hurt/Comfort, Implied threesomes, Lampshade Hanging, M/M, Marauders' Era, Multi, Near Death Experiences, Polyamory, Post-Marauders' Era, Sick Character, Unreliable Narrator, tags make this look more crazy than it is, teen boys crying
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-15
Updated: 2017-04-15
Packaged: 2018-10-19 04:51:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 13
Words: 20,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10632585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehousewedestroyed/pseuds/thehousewedestroyed
Summary: Five things the Marauders refer to as 'The Incident' and one which well and truly deserves the title.





	1. Chapter 1

‘… not since The Incident.’

 

Lily laughs at the audible capital. ‘Dare I ask what The Incident was?’

 

James, Peter, Sirius, and Remus share a look. She watches as it bounces between them, raising her eyebrows in amusement. Sirius moves first, unfolding himself from the couch to grab the sherry and top everyone up. Remus shoots a glance of mild reproach at his back, pulling the blanket that had been wrapped around them both to cover himself. Peter downs his refilled glass of sherry in one gulp, and Sirius fills it again immediately.

 

James is the only one who meets her eye, with a cryptic expression he clearly thinks she’ll understand.

 

‘ _Darling?_ ’ she asks quizzically.

 

He sighs. ‘Well, it might be better if you ask these two,’ he gestures at Remus and Peter, who look affronted. Sirius, on the other hand, relaxes infinitesimally as he tops off her glass. She treats him with a thankful smile.

 

‘Oh?’ she prompts, when Remus and Peter volunteer nothing.

 

‘Well, _darling_ ,’ James pulls her closer to his lap. ‘The thing _they_ refer to as The Incident was just a bit of fun we had in third year.’

 

‘It was _not_ third year,’ Peter says. ‘Because it was definitely after we stole James his first trophy, and that was after his fourteenth birthday.’

 

James blinks. ‘ _No_ ,’ he says. ‘Because you two always think we mean the time with the door.’

 

‘ _What_ door?’ Remus presses.

 

‘The storeroom door,’ Sirius answers. ‘In _third year_.’


	2. WHAT HAPPENED WITH THE STOREROOM DOOR IN THIRD YEAR

‘ _Ouch_ ,’ James whispered, ‘Who’s standing on my foot?’

 

‘ _I am_ ,’ Sirius hissed back, ‘because your bloody cloak is too small for the four of us.’

 

‘Well I wasn’t going to stay in the dormitory while you lot took off with it, was I?’

 

Remus threw the cloak off all of them. ‘There’s not much point using it if you two’re going to bicker out loud in the middle of the corridor, is there?’

 

James gathered the cloak off the floor while the others stepped free.

 

‘Well, we could use a lookout,’ Sirius nodded toward the end of the hallway. ‘Go on, then.’

 

‘What? I’m not standing on the corner looking like an idiot,’ James retorted.

 

‘No, you won’t look like an idiot, because you won’t look like _anything_ ,’ Sirius replied. ‘Put on your cloak and tell us if anyone’s coming.’

 

‘Why can’t Peter do it?’

 

‘Peter can read better in the dark than you can,’ Remus said. ‘And Sirius can do the lock spell.’

 

‘What about you?’

 

‘He’s the one who knows all the ingredients we need to make a colour-change potion that’s not toxic to all the owls,’ Peter reminded him.

 

‘He could’ve written it down.’

 

‘Too late,’ Sirius said. ‘Off you go.’

 

James muttered all the way up the corridor about finding a spell that could track people so he didn’t have to keep playing lookout. It rather ruined the effect of being invisible. Remus and Peter turned expectantly to Sirius, who rolled up his sleeves and took a deep breath.

 

‘Right,’ he exhaled. ‘ _Right_.’

 

‘It’s a spell, Sirius,’ Remus said. ‘It’s not a dragon battle.’

 

‘Right, yep, I know,’ Sirius snapped. ‘Just… you two are all ready to pinch all the supplies? Know which ones?’

 

‘We can pinch them,’ Peter said. ‘As soon as you open the door.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Sirius nodded. ‘Got it.’

 

He took out his wand.

 

‘You two better be quick,’ he said.

 

‘We can hardly be slower than _you_ ,’ Remus drawled.

 

‘How much time do you need to say _alohamora_?’ Peter added.

 

‘It’s not _alohamora_ ,’ Sirius said. ‘That doesn’t work on proper locks like this one.’

 

‘Is it _waiting until Sluggy wakes up and opens it in the morning_?’ James called, and their shushing hisses echoed off the walls back to him.

 

‘It’s transfiguration,’ Sirius said. ‘We reduce the size of the door until it doesn’t fit on the hinges. You two might want to stand back.’

 

Peter glanced at him. ‘Why would we need to stand—’

 

‘ _Reducto!_ ’

 

The door exploded.

 

Sirius had technically been right: it _did_ shrink the door, at least into a great number of pieces each about the size of a bludger. Unfortunately, the spell gave them the weight, velocity, and malevolence of a bludger as well. Sirius was hit in the stomach, while Peter was pummelled to the floor. Remus took one to the shoulder and one to the shin, a third glancing off his ear.

 

The blast had also directed inward, smashing into the shelves of ingredients and shattering jars. Porcupine quills scattered over the floor and something glowing began to ooze around shards of glass. Remus clambered to his feet and stared in horror as a tiny bottle rolled to the edge of its tipped shelf and tumbled to the stone floor. The first time it bounced with a _ping_ , and he shared a hopeful look with Sirius before it smashed among a pile of shrivelfigs.

 

Plumes of thick orange smoke erupted on the spot. Sirius blinked stupidly at them for a moment before kicking the debris off himself and scrambling upright.

 

‘Run,’ Remus breathed, and the two of them hoisted Peter up. The smoke billowed out from the room, now bulging with opaque black bubbles as it crawled along the floor.

 

‘ _Wait!_ ’ Peter yelped, hopping over the smoke to snatch up an undamaged tin on the shelf. Sirius and Remus grabbed both his arms and bolted toward the corridor.

 

‘Run run _run_ _run RUN!_ ’ Sirius repeated as they approached James, who had thrown off the cloak’s hood and resembled a disembodied head gawping at the wreckage of the storeroom. The orange was now making an ominous sucking noise, while the bubbles that burst against the ceiling showered down gravel. It grew more noxious as further ingredients spilled into it, until the stench alone threatened to overwhelm them. It was almost at their heels when they skidded up to the staircase, and as they tumbled through the tapestry passage at the first landing, Filch’s hollering echoed off the stone walls.

 

After Peter revealed that he’d stolen a bruise balm that hid the damage, Peeves ended up taking the blame for blowing up the potions storeroom. Still, Remus walked with a limp for more than a week, James insisted they work on making a proper map, and nobody ever suggested turning the owls pink again.


	3. Chapter 3

Lily clutches a hand to her chest, gasping with laughter. ‘That was _you four?_ I _remember_ Slughorn’s moustache was half-torn out after it happened.’

 

‘Out of frustration?’ Peter asks. ‘Or do you think he’d been using a potion to keep it thick?’

 

‘Could have been both,’ she replies.

 

‘That was hardly an Incident,’ Sirius says. ‘That was a shenanigan, at best.’

 

‘Easy for you to say,’ mutters Remus. He has not allowed Sirius to return under his blanket.

 

‘Now, explain to me,’ James addresses Peter. ‘Why you thought my birthday trophies had something to do with it?’

 

‘ _Because_ ,’ says Peter. ‘When you two say the “Incident” you give each other that look you get since that time you had detention in the trophy room together.’

 

Sirius and James glance at each other.

 

‘Is that the look?’ Lily asks. ‘I’ve seen that look.’

 

‘There’s no _look_ ,’ Sirius lies.

 

‘Nothing happened in the trophy room detention,’ James also lies.

 

‘Clearly, something did,’ Lily says, still highly entertained.

 

‘You might have more luck finding out than we ever did,’ Remus gestures at Sirius and James. ‘They’ve never told us what really happened.’

 

‘But we’re pretty sure it’s how James properly lost his virginity’ Peter adds.

 

Sirius barks out a laugh. ‘What, in fourth year? That didn’t happen til the end of fifth.’

 

Remus makes a strange noise, staring at Sirius. ‘That can’t be right.’

 

‘Well, I think I’d remember,’ James says.

 

‘But that would mean’—Remus mutters—‘the time that we… in James’ attic?’

 

‘ _What did you do in my attic_?’ James demands.

 

Remus turns to face Sirius on the couch. ‘Sirius, did I deflower you in James’ attic?’

 

Without waiting for a reply, he finishes his sherry and pours another.

 

‘I don’t think it counts,’ Sirius says. ‘You didn’t finish.’

 

‘It counts if you didn’t finish,’ says Lily. James nods.

 

Remus looks desperately to Peter. ‘I’ll say it doesn’t count,’ he says. ‘If we can never use the word “deflowered” again.’

 

Remus swallows the second glass. ‘I can’t believe that was the first time…’

 

‘Let me get this straight,’ Peter interrupts. ‘You two’—he gestures to Sirius and James—‘never had sex in the trophy room.’

 

‘Why do you think we had sex in the trophy room?’ Sirius asks, exasperated.

 

‘Because _something_ happened in the trophy room.’


	4. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE TROPHY ROOM

Filch had used manual trophy cleaning as a punishment for generations. When James and Sirius had been caught transfiguring knobs onto all the suits of armour, he’d ordered a full night in the trophy room for the pair of them. It was better than being separated: at least they still had each other’s company, and a chance to reminisce on earlier escapades as they overturned some of the trophies.

 

For James’ fourteenth birthday, Sirius, Remus, and Peter had broken into the trophy room and stolen three trophies. The three of them had spent an afternoon carving creative award titles into the back of each one. Peter’s had said _Best Quidditch Hair: James Potter_. Remus invented the superlative _Most Creative Excuse To Get Out Of Detention_ for _James Potter_. Sirius, possessing very little in the way of subtlety at the age of fourteen, had awarded _Loudest Wanking_ to _James Potter_. After the evening of his birthday, the trophies had been returned to their rightful positions in the trophy room, James’ various awards turned toward the walls. (This would later become a running tradition: fifteen trophies still bear James’ name on their backs). James and Sirius had been delighted to discover that their defacements had not been discovered, and spent an hour fondly remembering how he’d managed to claim he was doing ‘important Quidditch practice’ when he’d been discovered zooming past the girls’ dormitory windows with the sleeves ripped off his robes.

 

Having failed to feasibly link suits of armour sporting erections to any kind of Quidditch-related demands, the pair of them were stuck in this detention for another eight hours. James’ secret trophies were polished to gleaming on both sides, and their amusement had worn thin before they moved onto some of the older cabinets.

 

‘Hey, look,’ James said. ‘Slytherin Quidditch captain, 1860: Sirius Black!’

 

‘The First, probably,’ Sirius guessed. ‘I think he was my great uncle.’

 

‘Anyone else in your family play?’ James asked, stepping back to view the trophies more widely.

 

‘Probably,’ Sirius said. James missed his tone of voice.

 

‘Can’t see any in Slytherin,’ James mused, moving to the next cabinet.

 

‘They’ll be in Slytherin,’ Sirius’ rag made an ugly squeaking noise as he rubbed it hard into the plaque he was holding.

 

‘Not all of them, though?’ James didn’t look at him. ‘I mean, you’re in Gryffindor.’

 

‘You’re welcome to try and find another,’ Sirius spoke through gritted teeth.

 

‘Sirius,’ James turned to him. ‘What’s the matter?’

 

‘Nothing,’ Sirius mounted his plaque and slammed the cabinet shut.

 

‘I’m... sorry?’ James attempted. Sirius was pulling the rag between his fingers, making the fabric groan from stretching.

 

‘Yes, well, everyone’s very sorry about it,’ Sirius snapped.

 

‘What?’ James retorted, pulling the rag out of Sirius’ grip. ‘I mean I’m sorry for upsetting you—’

 

‘— _I’m not upset_ —’

 

‘—you _are_ , and I’m not sorry you’re in Gryffindor,’ James finished. Sirius glowered down at the rag, trying to yank it back from James. ‘Why would I ever be sorry about it?’

 

Sirius shrugged, scuffing his foot against the floor. James was used to dealing with his moods, but this one had come as a surprise. ‘Sirius, you’re my best friend,’ he said more seriously. ‘Tell me why you think I’d be sorry that we’re in the same house.’

 

Sirius gave a reluctant shrug. He had not let go of the rag. ‘If I’d been in Slytherin, you’d hate me. You’d have another best friend, like Remus.’

 

‘I _wouldn’t_ ,’ James insisted. ‘You can’t know that. Maybe I’d come sit at your table with Snivelus and all the rest of them, just so we could be mates.’

 

‘Yeah, well, maybe,’ Sirius muttered. James finally let go of the rag, and Sirius deflated. He slouched to the bucket of soap and dropped the rag in it, picking it up again without wringing it. Water dripped all over him, but he didn’t do anything about it. James picked up another cloth and stood beside Sirius, wiping the glass dry after he soaped each part.

 

After a while, Sirius murmured: ‘You know as soon as he found out, Regulus wrote home and told them Remus was half-blood. Mum sent Dumbledore a Howler.’

 

James laughed, and Sirius gave him a sharp look. ‘It’s not funny.’

 

‘A Howler to Dumbledore?’ James said. ‘Come on, Sirius. It’s a bit funny.’

 

‘Not when I had to explain to them next summer that I still shared a dormitory with a half-blood, it wasn’t,’ Sirius said.

 

‘I know you don’t care about that stuff.’

 

‘But I _did_. When I first met him, I cared!’ Sirius said. ‘I’d never met a half-blood wizard before. If I hadn’t seen him at the feast I’d have believed he ate with his hands. I kept watching him, trying to see if he’d do something weird.’

 

‘So you were a tosser when you were eleven,’ James shrugged. ‘You came from a whole family of tossers: it’s not like you had a chance. Anyway, I’m _still_ a tosser and I’m your best mate.’

 

Sirius laughed weakly; a wet, ragged sound. James pulled him into a hug. The dampness of Sirius’ cheek pressed into his hair, and there was a shudder in his chest when he inhaled.

 

‘Please don’t tell him,’ Sirius whispered.

 

‘I won’t,’ James promised. ‘But he’d understand, you know.’

 

‘I know, _I know_ ,’ Sirius said. ‘That makes it worse. I don’t deserve to be his friend—I don’t deserve to be _any_ of your friends.’

 

‘Of course you do,’ James said. ‘Even when you throw ridiculous strops like this one.’

 

‘It’s not a _strop!_ ’ Sirius cried out. ‘It’s in my _name_. My _blood_. I know I don’t _want_ to be like them, but what if I am? Really? What if my dad’s right and it’s just a phase? And I get tired of _fighting_ them all the time, and drop the lot of you, end up like all of them anyway? If they’d even have me back… if I could ever just stop caring about you so much, stop being—’

 

James shook his shoulders gently, before Sirius said something he wasn’t ready to say. ‘You know as well as we do that you’ll never be like them. It’s a good thing. I know it’s not easy…’

 

‘You don’t know, though,’ Sirius murmured, but the fight had left him now. ‘It’s so _much_.’

 

James rubbed his thumbs into the joints of Sirius’ shoulders, until the tension dissipated.

 

Sirius sighed and broke away from him, drifting back to the Slytherin Quidditch plaque. They worked quietly for a while, giving each trophy a half-hearted polish. Eventually, he spoke again. ‘You remember what Flitwick said, about old magic? How blood bonds are the most powerful spells?’

 

James didn’t follow him this time, instead letting his voice carry as he finished the abandoned cabinet. ‘Yeah?’ he asked, but couldn’t think of anything else to say.

 

‘What if it does turn out to be true? It means I’ll always be one them, no matter how much I don’t want to be.’

 

‘You’re _not_ ,’ James repeated. ‘You got Sorted differently for a reason, and they can’t re-Sort you.’

 

‘Sorting’s just for school,’ Sirius’ eyes were traveling over the cabinet, pausing at each engraving that gleamed back at him: _Black_ , _Black_ , _Black_.

 

‘If that were true,’ James said. ‘Your parents wouldn’t care about Slytherin. None of these dead old farts would care.’

 

Sirius finally looked at him. His eyes shone in the dark, threatening to spill over again.

 

James waited until the right words came to mind: ‘You’re really brave, you know.’

 

Sirius sniffed out a laugh, tilting his head up to the ceiling.

 

‘You are,’ James continued. ‘Facing up to them all the time. Not just believing all the rubbish you were raised with. Choosing to be our friend. Even if old magic does matter. Even when it’s hard, when it’s your own family. That’s why you’re a Gryffindor. Because you keep on being brave.’

 

He took Sirius’ hand in his own, and when Sirius sank to the floor, he crouched too, wrapping his arms around him. Sirius, all lanky limbs, was folded up like a very sad deckchair, his face pressed into James’ chest. He clung to James’ robes while he cried, and they didn’t get up again to clean the trophies for another hour. Sirius spat on the ones that said _Black_ , and James buffed them to brilliance with his underpants.


	5. Chapter 5

‘Nothing happened in the trophy room,’ James says evenly. ‘No sex, no Incident.’

 

Sirius picks up a mince pie and relaxes into the couch. Remus shuffles until the blanket is covering him again.

 

‘That was around the time of the _actual_ Incident,’ Peter says. James nods too.

 

Sirius and Remus are frowning.

 

‘What? It was fourth year,’ Peter looks to James for support. ‘The week before Halloween.’

 

‘Nuh-uh,’ James says. ‘It was closer to Sirius’ birthday.’

 

Now everyone is scowling.

 

‘Oh, for heaven’s sake,’ Lily throws her hands in the air. ‘Peter, you tell yours first.’


	6. WHAT HAPPENED TO PETER IN FOURTH YEAR THE WEEK BEFORE HALLOWEEN

‘I’ll be right back!’

 

‘ _James!_ James, you will not be right back back because— _shit!_ —you are staying right here!’

 

It was no good, however. Sirius poked his head above ground, muttering: ‘Where the fuck’s he running off to, then?’

 

‘Could one of you— _pleeeaaaaaase—_ pu-u-u-sh it?’ Peter wailed from above their heads.

 

‘Sorry!’ Remus called up to him, and pressed the knob on the root next to him.

 

The Willow stilled, and Peter’s yells turned into rough panting.

 

‘You right now, Pete?’ Sirius asked, peering upward into the deep twilight.

 

‘ _No_ ,’ Peter said miserably. ‘I’m upside down, and I’m stuck.’

 

‘Sorry,’ Remus grimaced to Sirius, who mirrored him. ‘I couldn’t really see when the best time would be to stop it.’

 

Peter was a distant shadow, swinging at the very top of the Whomping Willow.

 

‘Could you sort of… wriggle out?’ Sirius asked him.

 

A frantic grunting above indicated that that was what Peter was already trying to do.

 

‘Problem of you stopping it moving,’ he puffed. ‘Is that it’s _not bloody moving_.’

 

Remus gave Sirius a helpless shrug.

 

‘Can we push it again to start it up?’ Sirius whispered.

 

‘No, it wears off on its own,’ Remus murmured back.

 

‘Can we… oh, _where_ is James?’

 

‘I think I’ve got it,’ Peter called, and sure enough, the wood was beginning to groan. ‘It’s gone a bit loose… ohnononoooo _aaaaaaargh!_ ’

 

Remus shoved Sirius’ head down into the tunnel, following quickly behind him. Peter’s hollering oscillated above them as the tree flung him about again.

 

‘D’you think I could scamper up while it was stopped and grab him?’ Sirius asked.

 

‘Great idea,’ Remus rolled his eyes. ‘Then I’ll have both of you stuck up there, assuming it doesn’t crush you instead.’

 

‘ _Oi!_ Are you ready with the knob?’ came James’ voice from above.

 

‘See? Now James’s got himself hauled up there—’

 

‘No, he’s not!’ Sirius had stuck his head out again, shrugging off Remus’ attempts to keep him safe. ‘He’s on his damn _broom!_ ’

 

James was weaving around above them, keeping an eye on Peter.

 

‘He’s not a Snitch, James!’ Sirius said.

 

James, who had been quietly reassuring Peter while dodging the twigs grasping for him, called out: ‘Not hardly! But if you’re ready when I tell you to push the button, I’ll try to—oh, no...’

 

The Willow had begun to shake Peter like a ragdoll. Peter had stopped shouting and was now making a piteously wobbly noise.

 

‘I’m going to try to distract it—’ James started.

 

‘No!’ Sirius scrambled out of the hollow. ‘It’ll break your neck!’

 

Before Sirius could properly get up, Remus grabbed him by the ankle and sent him sprawling on the ground. This was lucky, because the Willow’s razor-sharp tendrils whipped across his back sharply enough to tear his robes.

 

‘Make it _soon_ , James!’ Remus called desperately, watching welts begin to open up on Sirius’ back.

 

‘Alright, alright… not yet…’ James’ voice indicated he was darting about to get a good view of Peter. ‘Not yet…’

 

Remus’ finger was hovering over the knob.

 

‘ _NOW!_ ’

 

Remus had already pushed it, because the branch was coming in for a second swipe at Sirius. The tree slowed to a halt and Peter groaned again. Remus shook Sirius’ ankle until he rolled over, hissing with pain. Above them, they could hear James persuading Peter to keep wriggling. The two of them were huffing and groaning with effort, and just as the tree began to shift, they both cried out. Peter burst free, clinging to James’ hands as the broom dipped with their weight and they both sank to the ground.

 

James dismounted, looking at Sirius and Remus from outside the Willow’s reach.

 

‘Well, come on,’ he said, and Remus half-carried Sirius to safety.

 

As the four stomped back to the castle, Remus announced: ‘We have _got_ to find another way into Hogsmeade.’


	7. Chapter 7

‘That sounds like a pretty big Incident,’ Lily says. Peter nods, vindicated.

 

Remus pulls the blanket a little tighter, but he accepts a mince pie when Sirius passes one to him.

 

‘So, Sirius’ fifteenth birthday…?’ Lily nudges James with her toes. He shifts.

 

‘You’ve just made me think, I should probably check Harry’s sleeping okay…’ James mutters.

 

Lily rolls her eyes. ‘Why don’t we _both_ go and check on Harry? You can tell me about it.’

 

As they leave, Peter takes out his wand and grins. He detaches the mistletoe from the other side of the room, levitating it to the doorway they’ve just left through.

 

‘What happened on my birthday?’ Sirius asks.

 

‘It was a bit before. You don’t remember?’ Remus cocks his head.

 

‘Not really,’ Sirius says. ‘Nothing big enough to be an Incident.’

 

‘I think it was for James.’


	8. WHAT HAPPENED A BIT BEFORE SIRIUS’ FIFTEENTH BIRTHDAY

The first term of fourth year was drawing to a close, and their secret transfiguration project was advancing in leaps and bounds. They’d practiced where they could during the summer holidays, but three months back at school had helped them work on things together. They’d been working on a _lot_ of things together.

 

Self-transfiguration—as the book James had bought in Diagon Alley told them—was a particular discipline with an extensive set of risks associated. One did not simply pursue becoming an animagus directly, nor did the book offer more than general principles of animagi in its final chapter. As an intermediate guide beyond McGonagall’s syllabus, however, it provided them with a number of highly educational exercises.

 

It wasn’t what you’d get with a Metamorphmagus or a Polyjuice potion: one retained one’s general features, much the same as they would later learn happened when changing into an animal. So it was recognisably James who came bursting into the Gryffindor common room, a head shorter than usual and fitting his robes very unusually.

 

‘Look at that!’ he hooted. ‘Nailed it!’

 

Sirius blinked. A few others in the room were giving James bemused looks: some didn’t seem to recognise the girl standing in the middle of the room grinning ear to ear.

 

‘Wow,’ Sirius said. ‘You did nail it.’

 

James laughed, and his voice was a little higher than usual. He tried flouncing over to Sirius’ armchair: it looked absurd, and Sirius snorted. James perched on the arm, rearranging his robes to fit his newly acquired curves.

 

‘Any problems?’ Sirius asked, re-settling himself as James preened. His hair was exactly the same mess it had been that morning, but his cheeks were fuller and his jaw rounder.

 

‘What do you think?’ James propped himself up to show off.

 

Sirius looked him over. ‘Seems fine,’ he said. ‘Was it hard, though?’

 

‘Not as much as you’d think,’ James said, and when he lowered his voice the newly husky tones came through. ‘Not after the stuff in the first three chapters.’

 

‘... James?’ Remus interrupted. He’d stopped in his tracks at the foot of the dormitory stairs.

 

‘How do I look?’ James held his hands out.

 

‘Cute,’ Remus grinned. ‘You’re really cute.’

 

Sirius glanced between them, expecting James to be offended. Instead, James beamed at the compliment. ‘I’m so _short!_ ’

 

‘Well, that’s hardly new,’ Sirius smiled, elbowing James gently. Remus was right, though: quite a few of the other Gryffindors were now looking openly at James, and they seemed impressed.

 

‘Where’d you learn that, Potter?’ asked a fifth-year boy from the Quidditch team.

 

‘Potion from Zonko’s,’ James answered smoothly.

 

The boy gave him an appreciative nod, as did his fellow fifth-years. ‘Suits you.’

 

Sirius squirmed against his cushion. Even the girls that usually flirted with James were calling him pretty.

 

Peter almost bumped into Remus’ back, and Remus said carefully: ‘Peter! We’re all just admiring the _potion from Zonko’s_ James is trying out.’

 

Peter stared at everything for a few moments before nodding, and then declaring that James was, indeed, adorable. Sirius had rather hoped that Peter too would be itching to ask him how the spell had felt, and whether transfiguring into a woman was more difficult than when they’d tried growing an extra pair of arms. However, Peter had more patience than curiosity, it seemed.

 

James hopped off the couch, properly re-tying the waist of his robes. The fifth-years towered over him as he walked among them. Sirius could only hear the impressed tone of their murmurs. He shot a look at Remus, but he too seemed entertained by James’ new admirers. James made a slow tour of the room while Sirius tried to finish the page he’d been reading on charms.

 

He was reading so intently that it startled him when James took the book out of his hands. The book was propped on a side table, and James slid himself into Sirius’ lap. They’d shared an armchair plenty of times before, though perhaps not after James had ensured he had the attention of every Gryffindor present. Sirius kept his gaze fixed on James’ tiny hands, and the downy fluff on his arms.

 

James dipped his head to catch Sirius’ eye. ‘You haven’t told me what _you_ think,’ he said, not nearly as quietly as Sirius would have liked.

 

‘I did,’ Sirius breathed. ‘I said you nailed the spell. It’s impressive.’

 

James sighed, flicking Sirius’ hair out of his eyes. His fingers trailed along Sirius’ jaw. The side of his body was angled toward Sirius, and for all it would have looked to the others like a casual flirtation, Sirius could feel the curve of James’ breast pressed to him, and James’ bottom felt slightly fuller where it shifted in his lap.

 

They’d kissed before, in the dormitory, as the pair of them (sometimes the three of them) tumbled together. But this time, James seemed to realise the moment Sirius did, that they weren’t going to kiss. It was signalled by a short huff of James’ breath, close enough to tickle Sirius’ face. James gave him a sideways look, and Sirius looked away.

 

James sauntered from his lap as though he’d intended to from the start. Sirius’ gaze was still fixed on his charms book, so he didn’t see to whom James said: ‘I’ll see you in the morning.’

 

Playful wolf whistles followed James upstairs. Sirius didn’t look up when he picked up his book, though he could feel the eyes of the common room on him. He opened back up to his page and finished it. That was enough: they were going to say something about it regardless of what he did now. He snapped the book shut and hurried upstairs.

 

James was in his pyjamas now, still girl-shaped, propped up against the headboard of his bed. Another night, Sirius might have joined him. He hovered, knowing James was watching him through his lashes

 

‘Can I borrow it?’ Sirius slid the transfiguration book from James’ table. James nodded, and Sirius thanked him quietly. He sat on his own bed, reading through the chapter James had been working from today. He didn’t shut his curtains, though he wanted to very much.

 

A few days later, when his birthday had come and gone, Sirius decided he and Peter were ready. They’d left dinner early and gone right to the dormitory bathroom: unlike James, Sirius only really wanted his friends to see this, and besides, if something went wrong with Peter’s transfiguration it wouldn’t do to be out in front of everyone.

 

It was, like James had said, easier than the first three chapters. He’d supervised Peter first, and figured out how it was more like changing what was there than growing something new. His own transfiguration happened quickly, and a little painfully, but a cursory rummaging suggested everything had changed as planned.

 

He’d rather expected that like James, he would fill out dramatically upon transfiguring. Instead, he was as slender as ever, his figure barely looking different in the robes he had on. He reached up to squeeze a breast—small, but perky—and was not met with a rush of feeling. He’d rather thought with all the fuss over breasts, it would be more exciting. The best he could attribute to it was that it didn’t feel too squishy.

 

Peter, he had to admit, looked lovely. His chubbiness had rearranged itself very favourably, while his pointed nose was pert and playful in the middle of a girl’s face. The watery quality of his eyes looked pale and bright when framed by finer eyebrows.

 

‘Sirius…’ Peter breathed. ‘You’re _beautiful_.’

 

Sirius looked at himself in the mirror. He didn’t look terribly different, except for a smaller nose making his eyes look bigger. He frowned at himself, and that expression triggered the sudden familiarity: he bore an uncannily resemblance to his mother.

 

Peter, misunderstanding his expression, reassured him that he was stunning—which, indeed, matched descriptions of Walburga in her youth. He tried to shove the thought from his mind, focusing instead on how they’d just pulled off transfiguration well above N.E.W.T. level in their first attempt. That brought the exhilaration he’d expected in the first place, and he laughed breathlessly. _We can do this!_

 

Peter smiled when he did, and Sirius burst through the bathroom door and into the dormitory.

 

‘There you—ah,’ James said, doing a double-take. Sirius realised how James had felt a few nights earlier, and swept his hair back to display the results.

 

Remus looked between the two of them. ‘Peter,’ he said. ‘You look absolutely brilliant. Can you catch me up on how it’s done?’

 

This was something Remus had done often: while he didn’t need to learn self-transfiguration with the rest of them, he’d pointed out to the others that Peter’s competence increased dramatically when he was put in the position of teaching someone else what he’d learned. 

 

For this reason, Sirius thought nothing of Remus and Peter going back to the bathroom and leaving him alone in the dormitory with James.

 

‘How many tries did it take?’ James asked. He’d been getting his pyjamas when Sirius and Peter had arrived, and he began changing while he talked.

 

‘First one,’ Sirius said. ‘But I’d just watched Peter.’

 

‘That’s brilliant, it took three for me,’ James told him, wriggling into his shirt instead of unbuttoning it. Sirius was quite sure he did it because he knew how it made his torso look when he twisted. He had no reason to deny James an opportunity to be admired, either.

 

Sirius hesitated. He hadn’t liked the way James had put on a show the other day, but this might be different. James liked girls. He made gestures when he talked about girls. And now Sirius had something to gesture at.

 

He was suddenly at a loss for what he’d normally do now, if he wanted James to touch him. He’d be changing his clothes too, and since there was very little else to do in that moment, he began to. James glanced up as he disrobed, and Sirius paused a while before getting his pyjama shirt. He hadn’t looked at his naked chest yet: it really wasn’t radically different from usual, but maybe James would think so.Maybe it would feel better to have someone else’s hand on his chest.

 

‘D’you want to…’ he asked, with nothing to finish that sentence that wouldn’t sound horribly awkward.

 

James shook his head and smiled at him. ‘Nah, it’s alright. I tried mine the other night.’

 

‘Oh,’ Sirius said suddenly. ‘Oh, right. Of course.’

 

He buttoned his shirt up, realising he’d need to get the book back and de-transfigure before trying to sleep.

 

‘If you want to… I don’t know, close the curtains,’ James began, which was absurd: save for poor Peter, they’d dropped all pretense of closing the curtains when James had won the _Loudest Wanking_ trophy last March. ‘You could… see how it feels.’

 

The last part, James had mumbled. 

 

‘It’s alright,’ Sirius replied. ‘I’m not… I’ll try it another time.’

 

James smiled with relief, flopping back on his bed. It immediately unwound the tension that had been knotting inside Sirius. Plenty of times, he’d felt as though James was an extension of himself like this, but the last few days had thrown them out of alignment. When Sirius sprawled on his own bed, in spite of the weirdness of presently being a girl, he was comfortable again.

 

‘It’s funny, but…’ James said. ‘When I tried it…’

 

Sirius waited. James was looking at the ceiling, the heel of his hand skating over the side of his body.

 

‘I think I _liked_ it.’

 

Sirius’ first instinct was to say _well of course you did, you like girls and you love yourself_ , but instead he just nodded when James glanced at him.

 

‘You don’t really like it, do you?’ James asked. ‘It’s weird that I liked it.’

 

‘It’s not that,’ Sirius said, taking a deep breath. ‘I look like my mother.’

 

James burst out laughing and it was just the same as usual, where it came bubbling out of Sirius too. They couldn’t stop giggling, after that: James needed to roll onto his pillow to muffle himself, and Sirius was wiping tears from the corner of his eyes. When Peter and Remus emerged—he suspected they’d been waiting until the coast was clear—he de-transfigured, and they never spoke of the whole thing again.

 

Rather, Sirius never spoke of it again. It was Remus, who took Care of Magical Creatures with James, who had to put up with all the questions on the walk to lunch.

 

‘Remus, I have to tell you something.’

 

Remus had rather been expecting this. Technically, he’d been expecting it since the end of second year, when he’d had to take Sirius aside and explain that there was a word for the way he felt about James (Sirius had insisted that the words were ‘ _best friend_ ,’ and bought a lot of Muggle posters of girls that summer, but upon returning that September had conceded to Remus that there were a few words before ‘ _best friend_ ,’ and those words were ‘ _I’m in love with my_.’)

 

‘Don’t tell anyone this…’ James began. This was such a bad start that Remus gave him a very hard look, which contained volumes about how unlikely Remus was to ever let slip a secret.

 

‘Okay, okay, I know you won’t,’ James pleaded. ‘But do you remember the other night? With the “potion from Zonko’s”?’

 

‘Yes,’ Remus said, and slowed down. At the rate James was going, they wouldn’t cover this topic by the time they reached the Great Hall.

 

‘I don’t know if you noticed, but… Sirius wasn’t interested in me as a girl.’

 

Remus made a noncommittal noise: this was a conclusion best reached only by James.

 

‘And… well, normally, he’s pretty…’ James waited for Remus to fill in the right word, to no avail. ‘Keen.’

 

Remus supposed that ‘keen’ would have to suffice for _in love with me_ until James’ head withdrew further from his arse in the due course of puberty.

 

‘It just made me think of last year,’ James said thoughtfully. ‘When we talked about asking girls to Hogsmeade with us. And Sirius said what he really needed was a girl just like me.’

 

‘I remember,’ Remus affirmed.

 

‘So I thought, it’s almost his birthday, and now I can get him that!’

 

Remus had to pause at this. He hadn’t realised James had been _planning_ to accidentally humiliate Sirius in front of the common room.

 

‘And he didn’t like a-girl-just-like-me at all…’ James said. ‘Don’t tell anyone, but I think Sirius is gay.’

 

‘James...’ Remus breathed, but he couldn’t find anything more to say.

 

‘What do you think? Do you think he might be gay?’

 

Remus exhaled slowly. He had no doubts on the matter, but James took his silence for uncertainty.

 

‘But he got those Muggle posters summer before last,’ James mused. ‘Maybe he likes Muggle girls, and that’s why he didn’t like me as a witch. Is that a thing, only liking Muggle girls? Has your dad ever said anything about it?’

 

Remus seriously considered walking directly into the Forbidden Forest rather than continue the conversation.

 

‘Do you think he likes boys?’ James asked. ‘Has he ever shown any interest in a boy?’

 

Remus stared directly at James. James, apparently, took this to mean ‘ _yes, but I’m not telling_.’

 

‘Do you know about a boy he’s into? Who? Did he tell you? We should sit down and make a list of all the boys in the school.’

 

Remus began to veer them away from the Entry Hall doors, so that they could continue this conversation away from other students. James followed along at his side, seemingly oblivious to this as much as everything else.

 

‘Remus, you don’t seem very involved in helping me work this out.’

 

Remus said through his teeth: ‘It’s a mystery, James.’

 

James wrung his hands. ‘But he _said_ … he said if I was a girl, he’d kiss me.’

 

At this point, Remus could not continue. ‘ _James_ … he’s been kissing you all term!’

 

‘But that’s just for fun,’ James said.

 

Remus gaped at him. ‘Yes, James. It’s fun because he’s gay.’

 

‘Well you do it too,’ James pointed out. ‘And you’re not gay.’

 

‘I’m not straight, either,’ Remus retorted.

 

‘Oh…’ James said. ‘But… I’m straight?’

 

This seemed too little like a statement and too much like a question than Remus wasn’t equipped to answer. ‘I don’t know about you, but I think Sirius is very much gay, and may have said he’d like to kiss you as a girl because he’s very much been wanting to kiss you, quite a lot, generally.’

 

‘Oh,’ said James again. A little spring appeared in his step, which was frankly astonishing, because Remus would have sworn James could not be further elated by Sirius’ good opinion of him.

 

They circled the Quidditch pitch while James thought about all this. He addressed to Remus the rumour—which Sirius had encouraged—that Sirius was having it off with half the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Remus asked James whether he’d ever considered which half, which James had not. Chewing on that took James most of the walk back to the castle.

 

Eventually, he asked: ‘But what about his family?’

 

‘Maybe,’ Remus said, in spite of the fact that he was certain there was no maybe about it. ‘That’s why he doesn’t like to talk about it.’

 

‘Oh. Well, that explains what happened in the trophy room.’


	9. Chapter 9

Harry is fast asleep: he stirs a little in his cot as James tells Lily the part about walking with Remus, but settles soon after. Lily tries to keep her laughter quiet enough not to wake him, and draws James to the doorway when he finishes the story.

 

‘Was it The Incident because you finally realised Sirius was gay?’ Lily asks.

 

‘Sort of,’ James says. ‘But not really.’

 

‘I remember that night too, you know,’ she tells him, sliding her arms over his shoulders. ‘Because I knew you were full of shit. You couldn’t make a potion like that—let alone get it from Zonko’s.’

 

‘Why didn’t you say?’ James breathes, stealing short kisses from her.

 

‘I knew it must’ve taken you a lot of work,’ she trails her fingers through his hair. ‘So you hadn’t done it just for a laugh. You’d have to have really wanted to become a girl.’

 

‘The others didn’t,’ James leans into her touch. ‘It was just a transfiguration exercise.’

 

Lily chuckles, pressing James against the doorframe. ‘Just an exercise?’

 

‘Well, _they_ didn’t enjoy it…’ James tells her. ‘But I do.’

 

‘Mm, I know you do,’ Lily kisses under his ear.

 

‘Tonight?’ he murmurs.

 

‘If Remus and Sirius don’t try to stay over on the couch,’ she promises, nuzzling him.

 

‘Right, well,’ James springs upright with mock determination. ‘I’m going to clear them all out.’

 

He marches down the hall, and Lily only catches him at the entry to the lounge. The others begin crowing, as they’ve stepped under the mistletoe, so Lily draws James into a theatrical kiss, dipping him until he almost loses his balance.

 

‘What I was _saying_ was,’ Remus says when they’re done. ‘That’s just what James calls The Incident. It’s not, though. It was much worse than that.’


	10. WHAT HAPPENED THAT WAS MUCH WORSE THAN THAT

 

 

 

There are some particulars about being an animagus that nobody has written about. Animal instincts with human intelligence, they were ready for: other things, they were not. The first few months were a rollercoaster of discoveries, beginning with the fact that werewolves don’t mind animals even when the animal is an animagus, and followed by the discovery that while werewolves could eat anything while transformed, animagi had to digest whatever hadn’t passed before turning back into human form. Peter never had enough in his stomach for it to be a problem; James had tried grass and not thought much of it; Sirius, however, had gobbled down all sorts of rubbish he found and spent the mornings after looking almost as ill as Remus usually did.

 

The biggest lesson to come from this (which Remus still rather wishes they’d been able to publish some research on) was what happened when a werewolf bit a human in animagus form.

 

The big black dog that Sirius had been transforming into for the last five months was the perfect size for Remus. They romped like pups, getting their pelts covered in snow all through the winter. They raced each other and barked and sniffed things out together. On the first night of spring, much too close to dawn, Sirius discovered a dead bugbear rotting on the Forest floor. Before he could gulp it down, Remus dragged him off by the scruff of his neck. Sirius, like a puppy, went completely limp, curling his paws to his chest in a picture of remorse. The moment Remus loosened his grip, Sirius darted back toward the bugbear: Remus snapped at him to pull him away again.

 

The Forest was so quiet that they all heard Sirius’ yip. He sprang away from Remus, conceding defeat, then shook out his fur a little.

 

Remus backed away from him rapidly, failing to hide the whine in his throat. The others watched them both curiously. Sirius was padding toward him, and Remus could only bark in warning. Sirius hadn’t even noticed, Remus realised. He could taste blood in his mouth.

 

He’d bitten Sirius.

 

Peter was the first to figure it out. He scurried up Sirius’ leg and dug through the ruff of fur on Sirius’ neck. He must have found the wound, because Sirius yelped, then Peter began squeaking urgently. Sirius looked at James, who was pacing in alarm, and back to Remus. Remus’ next whine came out more like a wail, and Sirius whimpered. None of them could change back; not until Remus did. James was prancing with anxiety, and Peter had scrambled back up into his horns. He was still chittering, for all the good it did. Sirius looked at Remus, who was ready to flee deep into the Forest. He approached him slowly, only catching up because Remus was stumbling on roots as he backed away. Sirius made a miserable noise deep in his throat, and Remus wanted to howl with guilt. Sirius licked his chin, then bumped his head against Remus’ neck affectionately—as if they’d just play-fought a little too hard and he was sore, not like Remus had just ruined his life.

 

Dawn was a few hours away, and there was very little they could do until then. They followed Remus to the Willow when he traipsed there earlier than necessary. He growled at Peter until he pressed the knot in the wood, and slunk down into the tunnel without looking back. Alone in the Shrieking Shack, he tore a cushion to shreds in frustration, but it made him think too much of his teeth sinking into Sirius, and he yowled. Now he was by himself, he felt entitled to: he’d done the thing he’d always been afraid of doing, and while it was Sirius who deserved to be upset, he spent the time left until dawn clawing at the wallpaper and whining, until the pain of transforming started to wrack him as well as guilt. He badly wanted to stay on the floor and feel sorry for himself indefinitely, but after what he’d done he had to face up to them. Downstairs, he was startled to find Sirius had brought up his clothes from beneath the trapdoor and was waiting for him. Remus sniffled, hurrying into his robes, and Sirius waited patiently.

 

‘It’s okay,’ he said. ‘It was an accident.’

 

‘It’s _not_ okay,’ Remus said, and Sirius hugged him. He sobbed into Sirius’ shoulder, feeling worse that Sirius should be the one crying. He couldn’t stop saying he was sorry: he’d never be able to say he was sorry enough. Only when he pulled away did he realise Sirius _was_ crying, but much quieter than Remus had been.

 

‘Well, look,’ Sirius said, his voice cracking. ‘It could have been worse.’

 

Remus stared at him. Sirius was much more glib than he looked. Remus could see from where he was standing that there were marks on his neck.

 

‘How does it look? I haven’t seen it yet,’ he said, cringing a little as he pulled his robe down a little and turned around.

 

There were four punctures matching Remus’ incisors around his spine, where his neck met his back. They were small—he really hadn’t bitten very hard—and already scabbed over.

 

‘It’s…’ Remus couldn’t speak for the lump in his throat. Sirius glanced at him, and Remus finished: ‘I bit you.’

 

‘We were just playing,’ Sirius said. ‘I know—we all knew it was a risk.’

 

‘It’s more than a risk now!’ Remus said. ‘Fuck, _oh god_ , I’m so sorry, I’m _so sorry_ …’

 

He couldn’t breathe. Sirius was murmuring to him, trying to calm him down, but he was shaking too, his eyes huge and brimming with tears. Remus felt awful for having hugged him, having touched him, but Sirius squeezed his hand.

 

‘I’ll help you,’ he said. ‘However I can, I’ll help you with it.’

 

‘I know,’ Sirius whispered. ‘Thanks.’

 

The last thing Remus wanted was to be thanked, but he didn’t mention it. Sirius led them both back down the tunnel to the Willow. James and Peter were sitting on a rock nearby. Both their heads shot up when they heard the Willow creak to a halt.

 

Just like they had while transformed, they danced from foot to foot but couldn’t speak. When Sirius reached them, he announced: ‘We’ll deal with it,’ and kept walking up to the castle.

 

Remus trailed behind, wishing he’d stopped them all from ever doing this stupid project. How could they have been so foolish to believe that he’d ever be safe to be around? You can _never_ trust a werewolf.

 

In the dormitory, James disinfected Sirius’ wounds. Peter suggested they look up cures and potential last-minute potions, and it was Sirius who hissed at him to: ‘Shut up, Wormtail.’

 

There were no cures.

 

‘If…’ James said, with considerably more caution after Sirius had snapped at Peter. ‘If you want to, it’s worth going to Madam Pomfrey…’

 

‘No,’ Sirius said. Remus sighed, about to say he didn’t have to keep his secret in a situation like this, but Sirius levelled a look at him too. ‘ _No_. We all already know there’s nothing she can do about it.’

 

Remus tore up an old shirt and they patched the wounds. Sirius wore a scarf for the coming weeks: fortunately March remained cold enough that most other students wore theirs too.

 

It was the worst four weeks of Remus’ life to date.

 

They didn’t talk about it as much as Remus felt he should. He’d grown up wishing someone could have explained things to him about being a werewolf, but he’d mostly talked to Sirius about those already over the years. Sirius didn’t ask many questions. James had a small meltdown over the prospect of babysitting two werewolves. Peter kept glancing at Sirius like he was going to transform in the middle of the day during the last quarter.

 

Far too soon, Sirius was joking about it. ‘At least I’m already a dab hand at turning into a canine. Dab paw.’

 

Remus didn’t laugh. Or at least, he didn’t laugh at the first few. Then, he wanted Sirius to feel better, and after that, it really was funny.

 

He had a panic attack in the bathrooms during the new moon—the moon Sirius was going to change on. Peter found him, and brought the others in.

 

‘Hey,’ Sirius said, once they had him breathing again. ‘It’s not going to be that bad. You’ve managed all this time.’

 

‘It’s the worst thing that could have happened,’ Remus says.

 

Peter supplied: ‘You could have killed him.’

 

James smacked him on the arm. ‘Wormtail!’

 

Remus wiped his face with both hands, sniveling. ‘No, that makes me feel a bit better, actually. Thanks.’

 

It was still the worst four weeks of Remus’ life to date.

 

During all this, none of them had really asked Sirius how he felt. They mostly hadn’t wanted to, but gave him any number of pitying looks. The nights right after full moon, he’d closed the curtains around his bed for the first time that year and cried a lot, hoping Remus wouldn’t hear him. He’d known intimately how much being a werewolf frightened Remus, and hurt him. Just when they’d started to make it something to look forward to, this had happened.

 

For the next week, he’d tried to remind himself of that while he held it together. They’d worked all this time to prove Remus could have fun as a werewolf. Sirius could too.

 

‘Look,’ he’d said when Remus was picking at his dinner. ‘At least it’ll make my parents _really_ angry.’

 

James threw a potato at him, but Remus started to eat.

 

They stole away more often: Remus snuck him into the Prefects’ bathroom and they swam together in the bubbles. It was hard to be sad in bubbles.

 

‘You said one thing that was so hard was being alone,’ Sirius said. ‘That’s why we started the whole animagus thing. Well, now you won’t be alone.’

 

‘You won’t either,’ Remus promised. ‘Not if you want me around.’

 

‘Of course I will,’ Sirius said. ‘I know it must feel awful, but it’s really the best case scenario for you biting someone.’

 

Remus turned to him, sending ripples and bubbles at Sirius’ face. He batted them away. ‘Nobody’s dead or savaged. It’s someone who already knows you’re a werewolf. I know it’s not the same, but I’ve already been turning into a dog on the full moon for you. So now you have a best friend to share the worst parts with.’

 

Remus seemed to think this was much too good for what he deserved, so he swam under the water for a while. When he resurfaced, Sirius was floating spreadeagled and staring at the ceiling.

 

‘Do you think I’ll still have black fur?’ he asked.

 

‘I’ve no idea,’ Remus replied, gazing upward as he floated toward him.

 

‘Maybe I’ll be white,’ Sirius mused. ‘It’d be ironic.’

 

Sirius found his hand in the water, and they drifted for a while.

 

‘I was always going to change,’ Sirius said. ‘Every full moon. To be with you.’

 

The last week, Sirius began to feel sick. A flu was going around, so nobody said anything about it when he turned up to class feverish, with dark shadows under his eyes and a distinctly greyish tinge to his skin. Remus barely left his side but for separate classes, and when they were alone, told him it was normal to feel this bad in the days leading up to full moon. Remus looked better than Sirius, but Sirius supposed he was used to it. Sirius’ eyes itched and his throat felt as though the scarf was constantly tightening around it. His skin ached inside and out, as though the wolf was ready to tear its way out of him. He sweated through two sets of robes before dinner, and he could barely keep a meal down. James watched him like a hawk, until he became restless and skittish himself. Peter kept looking at him in anguish. Remus had finally stopped apologising, instead reassuring him that it was normal to feel like this, and it’d pass a few days after the full moon—but the full moon had to come first.

 

By the time it did, Sirius felt, however foolishly, that he was ready. He’d asked Remus every question he could about the future of a werewolf. He’d thought about the number of full moons between now and when school finished, and what he’d have to do after that. How he’d stay with Remus, so they could shoulder it together. It wasn’t a matter of _if_ he could deal with it, anyway: he would have to deal with it. Remus had, and Remus was going to; and he’d have Remus.

 

They went to the Shack without the others. Remus was understandably jittery, while Sirius felt like he’d finally be able to let out a breath he’d been holding for twenty-eight days. They’d left so early that there was nothing to do once they arrived. Sirius wasn’t sure if Remus had a ritual of some kind, other than stowing his clothes. They were both naked with almost an hour until moonrise. Now Sirius could see that Remus was as clammy as he was, his freckles washing out his skin.

 

‘It’s going to hurt more than anything you’ve ever felt,’ Remus told him. ‘And I know I’ve said it a lot, but for that part, I am going to say this one more time, _I am sorry_.’

 

Sirius gave him a gentle hug, but both of them ached too much to hold it for long. They sat on the bed upstairs, and eventually they started to talk about rumours of hidden treasure in the Forest, and how they could herd some nifflers like they were a pair of sheepdogs sometime. Remus laughed weakly, and the smile he offered Sirius was as genuine as he could make it.

 

Remus had warned him that as a new wolf, he might be more aggressive, but werewolves didn’t generally attack anything other than humans. Sirius knew well from the scarred walls that the change alone could be enough to trigger a frenzy. They wouldn’t be herding nifflers tonight.

 

Sirius was starting to get really uncomfortably cold when Remus’ head snapped up. He hadn’t felt anything himself: maybe Remus was more attuned to the moonrise now.

 

‘It’s starting,’ he growled. Sirius held his arms out in front of him, wondering if it would look like when he turned into a dog. He thought he could hear Remus’ skin groaning as it shifted.

 

‘Does it—?’ Remus yelped as his knee twisted. The crack was sickening. He spoke through gritted, growing teeth: ‘Can you feel it yet?’

 

Sirius stood up. His heart was pounding rapidly, but he felt no worse than he had when he came in. ‘I’m… maybe it’s slower, because it’s the first time?’ he wondered.

 

He wasn’t sure if Remus heard him, because his head snapped down and a yell rumbled from his chest. Fur was sprouting in patches, and his claws clicked distinctly as they grew to touch the floorboards.

 

Sirius glanced out the grimy window at the full moon’s light falling on him. He definitely felt human.

 

He felt like a human who had the flu.

 

Remus turned a bright yellow eye to him.

 

‘Shit,’ Sirius croaked. ‘Oh, _shit_.’

 

Remus was still convulsing, but a growl that a very old part of Sirius’ brain recognised intimately was echoing from him. Sirius scrambled for the door, jiggling the handle and yanking it away from its misaligned frame. He slammed it shut behind him, his back landing against it as Remus thumped into the other side, snarling.

 

‘Shit!,’ Sirius said again. He wasn’t a werewolf. He _wasn’t a werewolf_. But the claws scrabbling against the wood definitely were a werewolf, and he did the most rapid animagus transfiguration he’d managed thus far. When Remus burst through, his head whipped around and Sirius was standing cautiously at the far side of the room. Remus stared at him a moment, with the same bright yellow eyes, and then he yipped. He fell upon Sirius and covered him in wet licks that stuck his fur up in mad little zigzags. Sirius rolled over and let himself be groomed, and his tail wagged so hard it made all of him wriggle, and Remus wagged his tail back.

 

They managed to get the trapdoor open, to find Prongs and Wormtail waiting for them again near the edge of the Willow. Both stared—it must be hard to tell whether Sirius as a werewolf happened to be enormous, black, and shaggy, with his hair sticking up in mad little zigzags. Peter once more scampered over to him and inspected him, and made a declarative squeak that things were, in fact, going to be all right. James almost fell over, which was quite a sight to see when he had antlers.

 

This was, unfortunately, not the last of it.

 

Sirius finally went and got himself a potion for the flu, and was ordered to spend half the day resting in the hospital wing. James was so determined to stay by his side that he’d hexed himself to bleed from the ears to get out of class. This turned out to be harder to fix than a flu, and Madam Pomfrey gave James much more attention, to his great discomfort.

 

‘It’s okay, Prongs,’ Sirius insisted when she had left to attend other students. ‘I’m actually better off than we thought I was.’

 

When they’d been released to the dormitory, the four of them gathered around and discussed what could have happened. Remus reminded them that werewolf bites were only infectious to humans, so the likeliest possibility was that Sirius had remained a dog long enough for the bite’s contagious effects to wear off. It was an interesting theory, with no safe means of testing that involved nobody being potentially turned into a werewolf or revealing himself as an animagus, so a theory it remained (to this day, [Remus has a draft paper on the half-life of werewolf bacteria that will never pass peer review](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13957503)).

 

Sirius was not feeling well enough to go down to dinner, and James refused to leave him, so Peter and Remus promised to bring them back some food—nobody would dream of coming between Remus and a hot meal after the full moon. Sirius, propped up on his pillows and bored out of his mind, watched them go on the Map. He glanced up at James, who was restlessly going through his trunk.

 

‘Prongs,’ he said. ‘I’m _fine_.’

 

‘I know,’ James said. He overturned the trunk on his bed, and began rifling through his things. ‘You keep saying that.’

 

‘Well, I am,’ said Sirius glumly. ‘Nothing happened.’

 

‘You could sound a bit happier about it,’ James snapped.

 

‘What?’ Sirius scowled. Exhaustion had made him dizzy, and he couldn’t figure out why James was in a temper. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

 

‘The way you were talking,’ James rolled a bundle of his robes and shoved them back into the trunk. ‘You’d think you _wanted_ to be a werewolf.’

 

‘What?!’ Sirius barked. ‘I was dealing with it, Prongs! I had a month to deal with it!’

 

‘A month!’ James’ voice went unnaturally high. ‘A whole month—how difficult for you!’

 

‘I don’t understand you,’ Sirius said, which was rarely true: he knew James turned over his trunk when he was distressed. ‘Should I have been more upset about it, or less?’

 

‘You said you were “ _ready_ ,”’ James spat. ‘You have no idea, Padfoot. You have _no idea_.’

 

‘What, and you do?’ Sirius’ voice, sore all week, was beginning to scratch as he raised it.

 

‘Of course I don’t! And it would take me more than a month to even _think_ I was _beginning_ to know what Moony goes through.’

 

‘Well, I was going to have to find out, wasn’t I?’ Sirius said. ‘We’ve all been doing this because we want to be with him and make it better for him. If this was a chance—’

 

‘How can you think that?’ James interrupted. ‘How can you think that he would feel better about having bitten you?’

 

‘I’d have been there for him!’ Sirius yelled. ‘And he’d have been there for me! Every full moon, for the rest of his life. We said we’d never let him be alone.’

 

‘Oh, it’ll just be a real romp in the Forest!’ James threw a roll of parchment on the floor. ‘A two-man wolf pack!’

 

‘What else was I meant to do but make the best of it? How d’you think Moony would feel if I went around wailing like Moaning Myrtle?’

 

‘He’d feel terrible! He’s been feeling terrible! Because it was terrible!’

 

‘Great, so there’s no reason to hope we could help him to feel anything else about it, right? Then why have we bothered with this whole project, _Prongs_?’

 

‘What we do is _completely different_ ,’ James said, his voice suddenly low again. ‘Only you would think it wasn’t.’

 

Sirius felt like he’d had the breath knocked out of him. ‘What do you mean, _only me_?’

 

‘You think you’re such a pariah,’ James’ teeth were clenched. ‘You think you have it so hard, because you got Sorted into the wrong house and got three best friends out of it. You act like the way your family treats you is how the whole world would treat you if you were a werewolf. Just because you forgive him for biting you doesn’t mean it would be _fun_ like everything else you do to upset people.’

 

‘You’ve got no idea what I think, James,’ the words were thick in Sirius’ throat; so thick he could barely get them out.

 

‘You’re right,’ James said. ‘I don’t know _what_ you were thinking.’

 

Sirius was shaking, all the relief inside him turning to anger. Fighting with James felt like he was splitting himself in half.

 

‘If Remus thinks I’m underestimating his suffering, he doesn’t need you to be his hero. He trusts me enough to tell me.’

 

‘But he won’t,’ said James. ‘He’s so in love with you that he wants to believe you’ll be happy with him.’

 

‘Are you _jealous_ , James?’ Sirius hissed, and suddenly it made sense. ‘Don’t you like the idea that I could be happy with someone else? That you’d stop being the most important thing in my life? Are _you_ the one who’s been really scared this whole month?’

 

‘This is what I mean!’ James said. ‘You think it’s all about how we all feel about you!’

 

‘And it’s not! It’s how everyone feels about _you!_ ’

 

‘It is a _curse_ , Sirius. He’s going to suffer for the rest of his life. Werewolves aren’t like real people…’

 

‘ _Real people?!_ Listen to yourself! You sound like exactly the kind of person who _makes_ it a curse for him!’

 

‘Me?!’ James shouted. ‘You thought he ate with his hands!’

 

Sirius hexed him.

 

It hit James square in the face, causing pus to gush from his nose.

 

James reeled around, his eyes bright with hurt behind his glasses. ‘You—’

 

His ear had started bleeding again. Sirius opened his mouth to tell him, and James hit him with a stinging jinx.

 

Sirius cried out, curling in on himself. He knew his next jinx didn’t hit because he wasn’t even aiming, and he heard James throw open the dormitory door.

 

There was a pause.

 

‘If you’re quite done duelling about what I would want,’ Remus murmured.

 

‘Oh, I’m done,’ James clutched a sock to his bleeding ear and stormed out. ‘He’s _your_ problem, for all the good it will do you.’

 

They could hear James stomping down the stairs, followed by the exclamations of Gryffindors as he burst through the common room. By the sound of it, he’d thrown another jinx at someone in his way.

 

Remus sighed.

 

‘One of the other prefects’ll deal with him,’ Sirius said, hoping desperately that Remus wouldn’t leave now.

 

Remus set down the dinner he’d brought up for Sirius—a sandwich cobbled from two yorkshire puddings and a piece of lamb—and sat on the bed with him. He uttered the counter-jinx and the stinging abated. Sirius fell into his lap. Big stupid sobs wracked him, and it hurt more than the jinx had. It felt like something being torn out of him and then jammed back in over and over, and he didn’t know which part was the worst. Remus stroked his hair quietly, which Sirius knew he very much did not deserve.

 

‘He’ll get over it,’ Remus reassured him. ‘We really frightened him, and he feels bad about it.’

 

Sirius didn’t really believe it could be true—not if James had been hanging onto the things he’d once said for that long. He wanted to, though, and Remus made it sound true.

 

‘How much did you hear?’ he asked, and his voice sounded flat.

 

‘All the parts you were shouting,’ Remus answered.

 

‘Eavesdropper,’ Sirius muttered, and it sounded much less funny outside his head.

 

‘You can never trust a werewolf,’ Remus was wry.

 

Sirius sighed, and moved to a drier spot on Remus’ lap.

 

‘He's right, you know,’ Remus spoke very softly. ‘I am in love with you.' 

 

Sirius was glad he could not see Remus’ face at that moment. He put his hand on Remus’ thigh and squeezed gently, nuzzling him. ‘Well,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn't you be?’

 

‘Exactly,’ Remus chuckled, tugging playfully on a lock of Sirius’ hair.

 

But quietly, Sirius stored that knowledge somewhere very deep inside himself.

 

‘Were you really…’ Remus hesitated. Sirius reached up and brought Remus’ hand back down to keep petting his hair. ‘Were you really willing to be a werewolf, and live with that forever?’

 

‘Of course I was,’ Sirius said. ‘It would be both of us, and we’d be together.’

 

Remus sighed heavily. ‘He’s right. It’s not as simple as that, but…’

 

‘I’d have done it anyway,’ Sirius said. ‘For you.’

 

Remus sniffled. ‘I’m glad you don't have to…’

 

‘Might've been pretty cool though,’ Sirius drawled.

 

Remus laughed a little. ‘Pretty cool.’

 

‘You and me, though, every full moon,’ Sirius said solemnly. ‘Dog or wolf. I promise.’


	11. Chapter 11

‘I still haven't published that paper,’ Remus grumbles. Sirius has stretched his legs across Remus’ lap now.

 

‘I can't believe you two had a fight like that,’ Lily says.

 

‘It was the end times,’ Peter assures her. ‘Flowers wilted. Rain fell upwards. McGonagall was nice.’

 

Sirius chuckles. ‘She was nice because she realised I was cutting classes to avoid James. She got me to help teach her first-year transfiguration class to cheer me up.’

 

‘Someone put you in charge of children?’ Lily scoffs.

 

Sirius took an enormous bite out of a mince pie. ‘I was very good at teaching transfiguration, thank you very much.’

 

‘He’s not wrong,’ Peter says.

 

James grins at Sirius. ‘I still think it's because she was sweet on you.’

 

‘I can't help being both talented and beautiful,’ Sirius says airily.

 

‘It's your humility that attracts me to you the most,’ Remus drawls.

 

‘Is there a consensus, then?’ Lily asks the room. ‘That's The Incident?’

 

They make noncommittal noises. Sirius says: ‘It's not an Incident unless I almost die.’

 

‘You we bitten by a werewolf!’ James’ voice goes shrill.

 

‘Nibbled,’ Sirius corrects. He pulls down the collar of his shirt at the back, revealing four small scars. ‘It wasn’t so bad. I was fine. I’d have been fine.’

 

James rolls his eyes. ‘Wasn’t so—! No. We are not having this conversation again.’

 

Sirius winks at him. James sighs, but he’s grinning.

 

‘That doesn’t count as almost dying?’ Lily takes the tray of mince pies and gives one to James, which distracts him. Sirius gives her a baleful look.

 

‘Not by far,’ he tells her.

 

‘If every time you almost died was an Incident,’ James sprays pie crumbs as he speaks. ‘We’d have had an Incident every week.’

 

Sirius takes a heavy breath. ‘I’m talking about what happened in the lake.’


	12. WHAT HAPPENED IN THE LAKE

It was an unusually warm Saturday in October; the last warm day of the year. Quidditch season had begun, and James had thrown himself headlong into his newly awarded captaincy, with so many practices in the last two weeks that his team had demanded the weekend off. Slytherin had booked the pitch, but James, undeterred, made the most of the clear day to practice diving. He’d decided that the lake would be the best location, as it was a softer surface to crash into, should it come to that. This suited the Marauders fine: they sprawled out on the shore with their N.E.W.T. homework, applauding James whenever he alerted them to having pulled off a particularly excellent move.

 

Sirius was basking, shading his eyes as James dipped and climbed after the Snitch. It felt like summer had never ended, and for the first time, he’d never wanted summer to end. He’d had an apocalyptic screaming match with his mother within a week of coming home, knocked his brother over summoning his not-yet-unpacked trunk, loudly announced to the house that he was gay, and almost broken the front door off his hinges when he slammed it shut behind him. One Knight Bus ride later he was at the Potters’, and spent seven weeks glued to James’ side. He’d helped James practice Quidditch (which he was terrible at)—and been fucked silly almost every night (which he was fantastic at) since they’d tried it for the first time while sharing James’ room.

 

Fortunately, James now had his own team to practice Quidditch with, but had continued fucking Sirius whenever he wasn’t mooning over Lily Evans. Being reunited with Remus had considerably improved this state of affairs. Since Sirius rarely spent a night without at least one of them in bed with him, Peter had become the most accomplished performer of silencing charms in their year.

 

James was growing more daring in his dives, and Sirius was waiting for the one where his tail-twigs would kick a splash of water up the back of his robes. The Snitch twinkled in the sunshine glaring off the lake’s surface. James soared above until it hovered just over the water, then came rocketing down, hair whipping behind him. The snitch darted to one side and as he corrected, he missed the chance to pull out of his dive.

 

He crashed into the lake with a distant splash.

 

‘Ha!’ Sirius barked a laugh, jumping to his feet.

 

‘Now he’s done it,’ Remus muttered, grinning.

 

James breached with a holler. He whooped a few times at how cold it was, and his laughter echoed. ‘Hey, Padfoot!’ he called. ‘Come on in! It’s refreshing!’

 

Sirius laughed and kicked his shoes off. He waded in up to his ankles: James was right, it was freezing, and Sirius had no intention of going out any deeper to meet him.

 

James swore. ‘Lost my broom!’ he yelled. He ducked under the water and Sirius squinted. James resurfaced a moment later, gasping for air. ‘Almost had it!’

 

He dived again. Sirius wandered forward as he waited for James to appear, his heart beating a little faster.

 

‘He can swim,’ Remus reminded him.

 

When James bobbed up, Sirius let out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding.

 

‘I got—’ James started, then he yelped. ‘ _SOMETHING’S TOUCHING MY FEET!_ ’

 

Sirius opened his mouth to tell him to come off it, when James disappeared with a _plop_.

 

He started running. The gritty sand sucked at his feet and the water made his gait infuriatingly slow. Remus, from behind him, was calling out: ‘Pads, don’t! Wormtail, go get Hagrid...’

 

But James was still under. Sirius launched himself forward once the water reached his waist, making awkward strokes toward the intermittent bursts of bubbles where James had been. His clothes dragged him: he had never felt so slow and heavy. He was getting exhausted too fast, gasping ‘come on,’ and ‘please’ even as he started to lose sight of the bubbles.

 

It was taking much too long—too long for James to be under—to reach him. Sirius’ arms were screaming with pain and his legs kept getting tangled in his robes. He tried to tilt his chin down and search the depths for the red of James’ uniform, but it was too murky, the water too churned by his strokes. He could hear himself whimpering, half in exhaustion and half from panic. He dived below the surface, looking for a shape in the depths. Beams of sunlight illuminated some of the space around him, but not enough to be useful. The water was thick and dark. It may as well have been opaque as Sirius plunged down. There were shadows below him, all indistinct. He couldn’t tell whether they were moving or not. His lungs were hammering urgently before he realised he had to go back for air. He surged upward, kicking hard. The sky was an eerie blue ripple above him. When his hand broke the surface, something pulled on his ankle. He gasped, and water rushed into his mouth. Twisting, he tried to see if it was James. There was a tentacle around his leg, dragging him rapidly through the water. He yelled in alarm, the last of the air in his lungs going in a stream of bubbles. He struggled to pull his leg free, but the squid only clamped harder. Rummaging through his robes, his head thumping now, he found his wand and aimed at the tentacle. A jet of water shot at it and he was released, momentum still pulling him in the same direction. He tried to right himself, too dizzy to tell which way the surface was. Then a thicker tentacle closed around his middle, so tight it was going to crush him. His eardrums were excruciatingly painful. His vision blackened. He grasped his wand, determined to hold it as tightly as the squid was holding him, and his stomach lurched as he was pulled in another direction, even faster, and suddenly he was horribly cold, rushing, falling much too fast, and then something hit all of him very, very hard.

 

It was the ground. His skin stung everywhere the air was touching it, and his eyes were burning. He tried to breathe and his throat tightened, and he fell on his side, bringing fresh waves of pain as he vomited lungfuls of water onto the grass. Every fresh breath seared his throat, and his head was spinning madly, but he rolled his neck until he could see where he was. Nearby was a dark red lump. As he craned his neck, one of his ears cleared and he could hear it gasping. It was James. A bolt of pain seized him when he tried to turn toward it, making him sick again. Each cough felt like being hit by a troll. He still couldn’t get his breath properly.

 

James was alive, though.

 

James crawled over to him. His glasses were missing and his hair looked uncanny plastered down on his head. Sirius had found a position where he could breathe without feeling like he would pass out from pain, as long as his breaths were very shallow. His entire body was made up of water and hurt. James came to place a hand on his side and he howled, writhing away from it, the world dimming at the edges.

 

‘S-s-s-orry,’ James said, his teeth chattering. Sirius realised how cold James’ hand was where it rested gently on his arm. ‘‘m sorry,’ he repeated.

 

Sirius only whined, blinking at James. There was a purplish tinge to his lips, and it wasn’t just Sirius’ vision swimming—he was shaking hard. Sirius tried to speak again, to ask if he was alright, but his teeth were rattling too. Between the bursts of pain with every breath, he was cold, colder than he’d felt under the water. He knew that was bad.

 

He remembered what they was supposed to do now. He laughed weakly, which brought a sharp jolt to his side. Then he flipped onto his back, stubbornly ignoring the hundred aches that vied for attention when he did. His sopping robes clung to him and his hands fumbled at the fastenings. He yelped as he wriggled out of his clothes, and blacked out briefly getting his pants off. James had to shake him awake, demanding to know what he was doing. Sirius tugged on the front of his robes, mumbling that they had to go too.

 

‘Not now, Pads,’ James stuttered.

 

‘Not trying—’ Siris panted, dragging James’ clothes off him. ‘Not trying to get into your pants.’

 

Unfortunately, at that moment, he was working furiously at removing James’ pants. James didn't struggle much: he was too clumsy. Sirius finally got him naked, and rolled on top of him. James huffed, then said: ‘You're warm.’

 

This was good news, since now Sirius had pressed his skin to James’, he was too. Hoping very much that they wouldn't die of hypothermia, he rested his head on James’ shoulder. James wrapped his arms around Sirius, thankfully too weakly to squeeze his chest any further. Both of them made some effort to rub one another's sides, trying to bring feeling back to their hands. To stop himself passing out, Sirius focused hard in where they were. It looked like one of the small islands in the lake, with tufts of grass, a few rocks, and little else. The was a rhythmic splashing noise and Sirius croaked, trying to warn James that the squid was coming back.

 

A soft heat covered his back. He sighed, relaxing against James: it was fluffier than a towel. James was mumbling something like an apology, which was interrupted by both of them being scooped up. Sirius wailed, but James held him firmly until he caught his breath. The two of them were set down against gently rocking wood: one of the boats. He could hear Hagrid muttering, and the creak of oars. James was still clammy against him, and Sirius clutched him for dear life while consciousness slipped from his grasp.

 

His next thought was that James or Remus were hogging all the blankets. He flung an arm out, but there were no other bodies in his bed. They’d pranked him, then, and nicked off with his duvet. And changed his pillows. And moved him to the hospital wing. And stabbed him in the kidney.

 

He reevaluated. Lake. Squid. James. He turned his head to check the beds beside him: both were empty, but Remus was reading in the chair on one side of him. He startled badly when he saw Sirius looking at him, ruffling the pages of his book.

 

‘Madam Pomfrey!’ he called, and his voice rang in Sirius’ ears. ‘He’s awake.’

 

Remus tilted his head until he caught Sirius’ frantic glance. ‘James is fine. You're not.’

 

Madam Pomfrey gave him a very efficient examination, asking him a series of questions about what hurt and how much. It was difficult to quantify: as soon as he said his side, his ears stung sharply. His eyes felt sore and it was hard to breathe. Something was pressing very hard on his sternum. His throat burned. It felt considerably worse than the flu he had mistaken for lycanthropy six months earlier, though this detail he did not mention.

 

‘There's very little to be done but keep you resting,’ she told him. ‘We can't fix all of it at once; safest to take our time.’

 

She turned to Remus. ‘He’ll only be sleeping more,’ she told him. ‘You should go to class.’

 

Remus shot her retreating back such a mutinous look that Sirius could have forgotten he was a prefect. He raised an eyebrow at Sirius, knowing full well Sirius hadn’t slept more than four hours straight since he was nine. If he’d just missed an entire Sunday, he wasn’t going back to sleep now. When he heard Madam Pomfrey close the door, he rolled gingerly onto his side to face Remus.

 

‘She didn’t tell me anything,’ he complained.

 

‘Probably didn’t want to make you worry,’ Remus said, which had the opposite effect. ‘The squid broke your ribs, and the ribs punctured your lung, and your lung collapsed. Pressure damage to your eardrums, eye infection from algae. And obviously you almost drowned.’

 

He listed them off on his fingers. ‘Oh, and James was nearly removed as Quidditch captain, except it’s too close to the Slytherin match and McGonagall couldn’t bear to do it. I think he almost kissed her. So there’s a new school rule banning all students from swimming in the lake, forever.’

 

‘Wow,’ Sirius murmured. ‘We got a school rule made for us.’

 

‘Took us long enough,’ Remus smirked. ‘Seriously, though. Pomfrey fixed your bones and your eyes should be cleared up, but you won’t be breathing easy for a while. Oh, that’s right, you also have hypothermia.’

 

‘Knew that,’ Sirius said. ‘Did James explain that’s why we were naked?’

 

‘We figured. It probably saved both your lives, too,’ Remus told him. He’d clearly been waiting to say everything since Saturday. ‘He thought you were just trying to get one last shag before you went.’

 

Sirius laughed, and the pain came back. It made him shudder, and then he couldn’t stop. ‘I’m still cold. Why’m I still cold? Couldn’t she give me a pepper-up?’

 

‘Not for hypothermia, apparently,’ Remus said. ‘It’d boil your insides.’

 

Sirius swore. ‘I’ll just be cold, then.’

 

Remus agreed, and Sirius realised he was shaking too. His nails had left half-moon indents in the cover of his book.

 

‘Hey,’ Sirius said, holding his hand out. It was much too far to reach Remus, but Remus reached to hang his fingers off Sirius’ loosely. ‘Are you okay?’

 

Remus nodded very quickly, and wouldn’t look at him. ‘Of course I am.’

 

He had to ask once more. ‘Is James…?’

 

‘Of course he is. He’s still Quidditch captain, and he’ll have a new broom by the end of the week.’

 

‘Tell me again you’re okay,’ Sirius said. It wasn’t something he’d normally say: it was hard to think things through with everything hurting.

 

Remus looked up at him this time, and his eyes were shining wet. His nose was red, Sirius realised: he’d been crying before Sirius had woken up. He wiped his face hastily with his sleeve, and went immediately back to clutching Sirius’ hand.

 

‘When—’ he stopped, and swallowed. ‘When Hagrid brought you back to shore. You looked…’

 

Sirius twined their fingers together, holding firmly to reassure him. Remus’ hand felt so hot in his that Sirius thought his pulse would burst out of his skin.

 

‘Naked in a moleskin and bruised from head to toe?’ Sirius guessed.

 

‘Yeah,’ Remus nodded, seeming to like that answer better. ‘That was about it.’

 

‘And still so handsome,’ Sirius murmured, just to make Remus laugh. He did, though it sounded wet.

 

‘I should let you rest,’ Remus said suddenly—Sirius realised he’d drifted off.

 

‘Mm,’ he mumbled, holding Remus’ hand tighter. ‘Stay? ‘s warm.’

 

‘Yeah,’ Remus budged his chair closer. ‘Yeah, I’ll stay.’

 

Something tickled his face. He twitched, and heard a noise.

 

‘Come on, Padfoot,’ it was James. ‘Moony said you were awake earlier. You’ve been asleep two whole days, you must’ve caught up by now.’

 

‘Don’t bother him,’ Peter was saying, but Sirius blinked a number of times and swatted James’ fingers away.

 

He tried to speak, and croaked. James gave him a glass of water. Sirius cringed as he bent upright enough to drink it, but his throat felt significantly better as it went down. His eyes didn’t sting anymore, either.

 

‘What time is it?’

 

‘Five. Classes just finished,’ James informed him. ‘We came for lunch, but you were asleep. They’re letting us have dinner up here with you.’

 

Sirius smiled. ‘Thanks. Good to see you.’

 

‘Tell Moony he can stop pining for his husband,’ James said. ‘He hasn’t left you since Saturday, and it’s very romantic, but he smells.’

 

Remus was half-dozing in the chair beside him, and his robes were rumpled. Madam Pomfrey arrived with four bowls of soup, setting them down on the small table beside Sirius’ bed. She had to move aside a heap of gifts to do so. They shook Remus’ shoulder until he stirred awake and accepted a bowl.

 

Sirius took a look at piles of sweets from Honeydukes. ‘How’d you manage those?’

 

‘Told them we’d been stockpiling for your birthday,’ James said. ‘But Wormtail and I took the one-eyed witch’s tunnel and got them yesterday.’

 

Tucked underneath a stack of his books was the two-way mirror—James revealed that his own was in his pocket—and the Map. ‘So you can at least snoop on us all while we’re not here.’

 

The more Sirius ate, the hungrier he felt. Some of the warmth seeped back into him with the soup: the others seemed to notice, and they stopped acting as though he were made of glass.

 

‘Maybe you can clear something up for us,’ Peter said. ‘Prongs has been telling the whole school—’

 

‘—I haven’t even seen the whole school—’

 

‘—he’s telling _everyone he meets_ that you met mermaids.’

 

‘I didn’t meet any mermaids,’ Sirius told them. James looked betrayed.

 

‘Well, now everyone believes that there’s merpeople in the lake,’ Peter said.

 

‘There _are_ merpeople in the lake,’ Remus muttered.

 

‘Now everyone believes _Moony’s conspiracy theory_ ,’ Peter concluded. ‘And that Prongs was made prince-consort to the mermaid princess who saved him.’

 

‘Of course he was,’ Sirius said. ‘In the three minutes he was underwater.’

 

‘I remember hearing mermish!’ James protested.

 

‘You mean your teeth chattering?’ Remus asked.

 

‘She undressed me! Her slippery nakedness was pressed against mine…’

 

‘That was me,’ Sirius realised. ‘Trying to stop you from dying of hypothermia.’

 

Remus was rocking with silent laughter.

 

‘She was slender! And clammy!’ James claimed, only half-serious.

 

‘Please,’ Remus was struggling to contain himself. ‘Please, Wormtail, tell me he said “slippery nakedness” in front of people.’

 

Peter nodded, grinning, and Remus hooted. James valiantly attempted to retain his dignity, keeping his head high.

 

‘I love you, prince-consort,’ Sirius crooned. His chest felt like the squid had finally stopped crushing it. ‘Tell our story.’

 

Sirius browbeat Remus into going back to the dormitory with the others, after James volunteered to loan him the two-way mirror. He watched them on the Map, the mirror relaying their bickering about the existence of merpeople. Madam Pomfrey had dimmed the lights, but this time he really was awake. He played with a puzzle they’d brought him from Zonkos, then flicked through his Charms book for something new they could turn toward mischief. He floated a few by the others, who agreed that an invisible wall could be put to great use outside of the Slytherin common room. Soon enough they were asleep, and Sirius had very little to do but hover toffees into his mouth. He made some attempt at his Ancient Runes homework, but concentrating too long made his head swim. He watched the ghosts drift about on the Map, wishing there were some way of knowing what the Fat Friar was saying to the Bloody Baron at two o’clock in the morning. He went back to the Charms book, researching some way the Map could transcribe spoken words. The only solution he could see would be placing eavesdropping spells on every inch of the castle, which wouldn’t work at all. He made a note to ask Remus to pick up some library books on the subject.

 

He fell back into his four-hour sleeping pattern quickly after that. Professor McGonagall visited to give him a very stern scolding, inform him of the fifty points he’d been docked, and remind him how lucky he was to be alive. James brought the Quidditch team to visit and thank him for saving their captain: there were some generous gifts brought by the half he’d been having it off with in fourth year. The Marauders visited twice daily, and Remus almost every hour. They did homework together and tutored Sirius when he was well enough.

 

‘Don't know if you’ll ever catch up on Transfiguration, mate,’ James joked. ‘You might fail.’

 

They snuck the two-way mirror into classes so Sirius could follow along: he was glad for something to do, and especially enjoyed Defence Against the Dark Arts. He quite liked this teacher, and didn't want to miss any clues that would help him win the annual pool on how she’d leave at the end of the year.

 

The Marauders kept the presents pouring in: it seemed this accident was a proxy for all those where they hadn’t been able to send anyone to the hospital wing for fear of being expelled. The accumulated debt of worry and pampering was being piled on Sirius now, which suited him very well.

 

The cold still swept through him in sudden bouts. Madam Pomfrey could do very little but place warming charms on the sheets for him, and he woke gasping for breath when they wore off. Remus was there more often than not when he woke up. Apparently they’d threatened to rescind his prefectdom if he kept staying in the hospital wing, and he’d called their bluff by threatening to abdicate if watching over an injured Gryffindor fell outside his duties. When a chill that had settled in Sirius’ chest dragged him from sleep, Remus would crawl under the blankets with him. Remus held him steadily through the shivers that wracked him, and stayed until Sirius was warm again. They were never caught that way: Remus was watchful for when to call Madam Pomfrey and when to take things into his own hands. Sirius always hoped for the latter.

 

Some evenings, Remus was the one fast asleep in the bed when James turned up after Quidditch practice. Remus would grunt irritably if they chatted too loudly, nestling closer into Sirius’ chest. Sirius’ shoulders were broad enough that Remus fit between them, and he rested his chin on Remus’ head while he played chess with James.

 

‘Do you think the Forbidden Forest was just called the Forest once, and it’ll be the Forbidden Lake now?’ Sirius mused.

 

James laughed. ‘We’ll make it happen.’

 

‘How’s the mermaid story going?’

 

‘It’s beyond me now,’ James said. ‘People have started saying you’re still down there as collateral because I can’t go back to my princess and officially marry her until I’m of age. So if we keep you in the hospital wing until March and then I disappear, they might actually believe it happened.’

 

‘I suppose I’ll have learned mermish,’ Sirius mused. ‘Something for me to do if I’m stuck here over winter.’

 

‘You won’t be,’ James assured him. ‘It only seems so bad because you’re actually getting treatment. There’s probably a dozen times each of us _should_ have come here. What about the time you took half your scalp off blowing up a bathtub?’

 

‘Yeah,’ Sirius agreed. ‘I can’t get rid of the cold feeling, though.’

 

James sighed, frowning at the chess pieces. ‘Moony’s been worried sick about you.’

 

Sirius shifted a little, but Remus only snored gently against his armpit. ‘I don’t think I can ask Madam Pomfrey if I can come to the Slytherin match,’ he told James. ‘But I want to. What would the team morale be without my support?’

 

James chuckled. ‘You certainly keep their _spirits_ up.’

 

Sirius suspected James let him win chess, because he certainly wasn’t as sharp as usual. Still, it was endearing that James was willing to sacrifice his pride and lose to some truly abysmal strategies of Sirius’.

 

Peter usually turned up with supplies; books, food, and games to keep him occupied. On a rare morning where Remus wasn’t there, Sirius made a request.

 

‘Go to Honeydukes for me,’ he asked. ‘As soon as you can. Buy a big block of chocolate, will you?’

 

Peter gave him an uncertain look. ‘There’s plenty of sweets here—’

 

‘It’s not for me,’ Sirius insisted. ‘Chocolate’s his favourite. Get a really good one.’

 

‘I’ll need the Map,’ Peter told him.

 

Sirius agreed. ‘When can you go?’

 

‘Don’t know,’ Peter said. ‘My next free afternoon is on Thursday, but they might not sell to a student on a weekday.’

 

‘Of course they will,’ Sirius didn’t mention that he’d lost track of what day it was now. ‘You’re a paying customer.’

 

‘About that…’ Peter shifted from foot to foot. ‘ _How_ big a block?’

 

Sirius sighed. ‘Take the money from my trunk and the mirror: I’ll tell you which one to buy.’

 

Once Peter was gone, he checked the date to find it was a Tuesday. Peter having the mirror for two days wasn’t bad: he tended to forget it was active in his pocket, so even without the Map Sirius could keep track of everyone. He’d been brought a mermish phrasebook, and frightened the others senseless when he’d tried practicing it and Peter’s pocket had started speaking mermish.

 

The next time they came to visit him, Madam Pomfrey was giving him the last dose of a potion that would mend his eardrums. His head felt clear for the first time in a week and a half, and the sheets were toasty again.

 

Peter spearheaded the early planning of their next full moon outing. It would be the day after James’ match and the week of Sirius’ birthday: there was an agreement among them, Madam Pomfrey notwithstanding, that Sirius would be out by Halloween. James was more taciturn than usual, needing Peter to prompt him on the topic of treasure hunting in the Forest. Remus was surprisingly enthusiastic in contrast: Sirius supposed Remus was eager to imagine him back on his feet. James’ cautious strategising began to irritate Sirius, his patience worn thin by eleven days in bed, and he snapped.

 

‘Prongs, you can’t plan for everything, unless you leave me behind.’

 

It wasn’t a fair thing to say, especially when James’ concern had only been showing in glimpses past his brash exterior. But isolation had made Sirius fear what Peter did: that this would put a stop to their adventures.

 

‘Come on. You couldn’t have known the squid would have such a strong grip. It could’ve happened to any of us.’

 

‘I know that…’ James gave him a pained look.

 

‘You shouldn’t have gone in after him,’ Remus spoke quietly.

 

‘Don’t be stupid, Moony,’ Sirius retorted. ‘You’d jump in the lake after me.’

 

A long look passed between all of them.

 

‘I didn’t,’ Remus said. ‘That’s the point.’

 

Peter made a dissenting noise. ‘You had your shoes off when I came back with Hagrid.’

 

Something flashed in James’ eyes: apparently, he had not known this either.

 

‘ _Look_ ,’ Sirius said firmly. ‘We’d all jump in the lake for each other in a heartbeat. None of us ever took Divination, so none of us could’ve known this time would be the time one of the _hundred stupid things we’ve done_ and the _hundred stupid things I plan to do_ went wrong.’

 

It didn’t quite settle them, but Peter pulled through with some research corroborating the buried treasure’s location, which was enough to get them back on track. After Madam Pomfrey ordered the three to bed, Sirius picked up the mirror and whispered: ‘ _Wormtail. Chocolate tomorrow_.’

 

Peter pulled out the mirror and nodded quickly, shoving it back in his pocket without breaking the connection. Sirius could hear by their footsteps that they’d taken a shortcut.

 

‘Moony,’ James said after a while. ‘You never said you’d tried to jump in after us.’

 

‘I didn’t,’ Remus replied. ‘I just… I wasn’t sure how fast Hagrid would get there.’

 

‘You’ve been treating him like he was stupid for doing it.’

 

‘I don’t think he’s stupid,’ Remus said. ‘But I don’t think the pair of you were very clever about it, either.’

 

‘He just said we didn’t know what was going to happen!’

 

‘Well, Prongs, what did you _think_ was going to happen?’ Remus snapped.

 

James sounded taken aback, and Sirius felt the same way. ‘I thought the water would be a safer landing than the grass. That’s all.’

 

‘You _knew_ it would be Padfoot who’d throw himself in after you!’

 

‘And what, you think I’d care less if this had happened to you or Wormtail?’

 

Their voices grew fainter: Sirius guessed Peter was hanging back to avoid being drawn into it.

 

‘It was Padfoot you called out to,’ Remus reminded him.

 

‘As a joke! I didn’t ask him to rescue me!’

 

‘Of course you didn’t,’ Remus said lowly. ‘You never have to ask Sirius for anything.’

 

Sirius could hear their rushed footsteps. His heart was going just as fast. He knew he should break the connection, but he couldn’t. (He tells Lily, as he recounts this Incident, that he did. The others don’t contradict him.)

 

‘Just say it,’ James demanded. ‘Go on.’

 

‘What, that you should be more responsible for how much he cares about you?’

 

‘You make it sound so altruistic,’ there was a sneer in James’ voice.

 

Sirius remembered this. He remembered how James could get mean when he was provoked. He wondered if this was how Remus had felt overhearing them fighting in fifth year. 

 

‘You think I can’t care about his feelings and love him at the same time?’ Remus laughed bitterly.

 

‘I think you’ve got a dog in this fight, no matter how much you act like you don’t.’

 

‘It’s not a _fight_ , Prongs,’ Remus said.

 

‘Isn’t it? Because you sound like you want to have one.’

 

‘Fine! You’re stringing him along!’ Remus cried out. Sirius, in his bed, jumped at the suddenness of it. ‘Whatever happened over summer, you know it’ll only last as long as you can’t get Evans’ attention. You’re like _fucking_ clockwork, do you know that? Every time you think you’ve got a shot with her, you leave him to me—and what, you think I’ll be grateful that he’s so starved for affection?’

 

‘He’s hardly _starved_ —’ James began.

 

‘—Do you even realise what you do when she cools off again? You still want to be someone’s boyfriend, and you let him think you’re _his_ for a while. But it’s only ever going to be a while, isn’t it?’

 

‘Don’t act like you’re the martyr when you’re part of it,’ James responded quietly. ‘You know as well as I do that I’d never hurt him.’

 

‘You never _plan_ to,’ Remus’ voice dropped. ‘But look where he is.’

 

‘So what, should I be the one moping over him on his sickbed?’

 

‘He thinks you hung the moon. You could earn it.’

 

‘What, like you’re trying to?’ James raised his voice. ‘You’ve been lapping up whatever he gives you, then you turn around and say it’s wrong for him to do the same!’

 

‘Is that the kind of person you want to be to him?’ Remus asked.

 

‘I know what I am to him. And it’s not that.’

 

‘You’d better hope so,’ Remus muttered.

 

‘I don’t need to,’ James snarled. ‘We both know I’m the one he wants.’

 

Peter gasped, which was lucky, because it masked Sirius’ own. James was striding away, but going by Remus’ rough breathing, he’d stopped still.

 

‘Do you feel like you’ve won now?’ Remus called to him, and he sounded tired. ‘Is that what you wanted?’

 

James’ footsteps stopped. ‘I don’t want anything.’

 

‘You wouldn’t,’ Remus was walking again, Peter hurrying after him. ‘You don’t even realise how fucking lucky you are to be so loved by him.’

 

‘What, and you wish you were?’ James’ voice was cracking, so subtly that Sirius wasn’t sure the others would notice.

 

‘ _Anyone would_ ,’ Remus replied. ‘But don’t worry, James. We both know you’re the most important person in the world.’

 

Their footsteps echoed for a few paces.

 

‘I love him,’ James said, softly enough that Sirius almost missed it. ‘You know I love him.’

 

‘Act like it,’ Remus retorted.

 

James’ response was muffled by a rustling noise. Peter’s panicked expression appeared in the mirror, and he whispered the spell to break the connection. Sirius was left staring at his own face in the glass.

 

‘ _Fuck!_ ’ he yelled. He had to stuff the mirror away when Madam Pomfrey came rushing in, and let her believe that the eye infection had come back rather than explain why they were so red. She left him with a soothing potion, which did help, and a warming charm on the sheets, which wasn’t the same as having Remus beside him.

 

James dropped in to see him before breakfast, but made no mention of what had happened the night before. Instead, he gossiped about their Defence Against the Dark Arts Professor, and how they’d discussed extending the deadline for placing bets so Sirius had a fair chance to guess a likely reason for her departure. Sirius couldn’t find a way to tell James he’d overheard the fight: he wondered if he’d even have detected the differences in James’ behaviour. His touches lingered and his voice was brighter, as though he were trying to pull Sirius from the hospital wing and get things back to normal—which was all Sirius wanted. Though it prolonged the moments Sirius had to hold back what he knew, he was glad James lingered until he was truly late for class. He left with a promise to visit again after practice, and Sirius put the rest of his morning to homework, determined to return to classes as though none of this—the squid, the endless cold, the fight he’d overheard—had happened.

 

(As they resume the story here for Lily, James watches Sirius carefully.)

 

After the bell to end lunch, he called to Peter through the mirror. Peter didn’t respond at first, and Sirius wondered whether he’d hidden it rather than risk another mistake like last night. Then Peter’s face appeared, whispering: ‘Alright, _alright_ , I’m getting your money now.’

 

When Peter was safely in the tunnel to Hogsmeade, Sirius asked how the fight had ended.

 

‘Nobody hexed anybody this time,’ Peter said. ‘You heard the worst of it. Don’t say _anything_ to either of them, they’ll kill me if they found out you heard.’

 

Sirius insisted to Peter that nobody was going to kill him, but he wouldn’t say anything more of the argument. At Honeydukes, he directed Peter away from the fancy trays of chocolates and Halloween-themed treats. Instead, he requested the largest block there was for sale, knowing the satisfaction it gave Remus to snap them into little squares and eat them with his fingers to his lips. Peter was timorous as he bought it, but Sirius was right: since he was paying and hadn’t popped out of the cellar, the clerk didn’t care in the slightest. They talked little on the way back, and Peter arrived at the hospital wing half an hour before the evening bell. He handed over the chocolate and the mirror, looking very glad to see the back of it.

 

‘Thanks, Wormtail,’ Sirius said. ‘It really means a lot.’

 

Peter nodded. ‘He’ll appreciate it.’

 

‘Is he… has he been okay?’

 

‘Not really,’ Peter said honestly. ‘I mean, look: Prongs is being an arse about it because he has to be. Otherwise he’d need to think about how many times he’s put all our lives in danger. But Moony… he’s always scared of losing you.’

 

‘He’s not going to lose me…’

 

‘But, Padfoot, he’s not going to win you, either,’ Peter said.

 

Sirius blinked. ‘What? Win me? It’s like he said, it’s not a fight.’

 

‘Padfoot…’ Peter shifted in his seat. ‘Moony has spent more time here than Prongs and me put together. He’s been skipping the detentions he got for staying out overnight, so he can keep seeing you. Gryffindor’s lost a good fifty points just from that.’

 

‘He didn’t say—’

 

‘He wouldn’t, though, would he?’ Peter pressed. ‘I think he’s been waiting for you to notice.’

 

‘What? I’ve noticed! I mean, I didn’t know about the points, but how would you expect me to know that?’

 

‘He’s done everything for you. He’s the one who’s stuck by your side.’

 

‘Well, of course he has,’ Sirius said. ‘He wouldn’t ever do anything less. What are you saying, that I should have got the fancy tray of chocolates?’

 

‘Just… just think about who really cares for you,’ Peter implored. ‘Who deserves you.’

 

‘Deserves me…?’ Sirius sat forward, and a sickening rush of cold swept back through him. ‘I’m not the house cup! You sound like—you sound like Moony’s been here scoring _points_ , and I should _reward_ him.’

 

Peter gave him a meaningful look, but Sirius’ shoulders prickled.

 

‘Wormtail, it’s not like that! You can’t _earn_ a person,’ he shook his head vigorously when Peter opened his mouth. ‘I don’t… I couldn’t _give_ him _me_ out of some kind of debt. He’d never do this with the expectation that I’d repay him like that. And if he did, he wouldn’t deserve it.’

 

‘But after everything he’s done for you—’

 

‘I don’t love him because I owe him! I love him because I…’

 

Sirius stopped suddenly. He’d never said it out loud quite like that. He knew, and he’d known forever that he loved Remus. Not simply because Remus was devoted, but for a million other reasons. Peter didn’t have to understand.

 

‘Look… thanks for the chocolate,’ he said weakly.

 

Peter stood up, and, though Sirius wished fervently that he wouldn’t, said: ‘Think about it.’

 

Sirius wrapped the blankets tightly around himself as Peter left the wing. He thought of James last night: ‘ _I love him. You know I love him_.’ Sirius’ heart had always fit James and Remus in it, just as much as his bed did. James—James was the sun, the blinding, burning centre that Sirius’ world revolved around. Remus—Sirius chuckled dryly at himself when he wondered if that made Remus the moon.

 

‘Padfoot…?’ Remus was hovering near the door.

 

Sirius had lost track of the time. A smile burst from him unbidden: when Remus smiled back and sat beside him on the bed, the bitterness that had come over him faded.

 

‘Have you got a detention you should be going to?’ Sirius asked.

 

Remus eyeballed him. ‘Who told you?’

 

‘Wormtail.’ He didn’t mention what else Peter had told him.

 

‘It’s not until later. I’ll skip it,’ Remus shrugged. ‘At this point it doesn’t really matter.’

 

‘It’s okay,’ Sirius assured him. ‘I’ll be out of here soon enough anyway.’

 

‘Did Madam Pomfrey say so?’ Remus was skeptical.

 

‘No, I just need to be out by full moon,’ Sirius reminded him. ‘Can’t well go turning into a dog in here, can I?’

 

Remus’ face crumpled. ‘You don’t have to…’

 

‘I do,’ Sirius bumped their shoulders together. ‘I promised. Don’t you ever think I won’t.’

 

Remus fidgeted like he was going to say something, but didn’t.

 

‘Hey. Got you something,’ Sirius gestured to the chocolate.

 

Remus was puzzled, then delighted, then concerned. ‘Padfoot, you didn't sneak out…?’

 

‘Oh, ye of little faith,’ Sirius rolled his eyes. ‘Wormtail picked it up for me.’

 

Remus relaxed. ‘You didn't have to…’

 

‘Well, I did anyway. Go on,’ Sirius prompted. ‘Spoil your dinner.’

 

Remus snapped the block in is wrapping, as Sirius knew he would. He tried not to stare as Remus peeled the foil back, wriggled a shard free, and bent it between thumb and fingers until a little square broke off. Remus sighed as he slipped the first piece into his mouth, and Sirius found himself glad that Remus only offered to share after that. It was good to see Remus be a little selfish.

 

Remus held up the second piece to Sirius’ mouth. His fingertips were salty, brushing Sirius’ lips as he took the chocolate. Sirius searched Remus’ face as the chocolate melted on his tongue. Surely, Peter had been wrong.

 

Remus was curious at the attention, watching him back just as closely. Whatever they were both looking for, Remus found it first.

 

‘Wormtail left the mirror on, didn’t he?’

 

Sirius swallowed the chocolate quickly.

 

‘How much did you hear?’ Remus asked.

 

Sirius hung his head, letting his hair fall in his face. He kneaded the blanket in his hands. ‘You told James to act like he loved me.’

 

Remus rolled a sliver of foil into a ball. ‘I’m… not proud of what I said. He does, in his own way.’

 

‘You’re not… _lapping it up_ , are you?’ Sirius was almost afraid to ask, if there was a chance Remus would say ‘ _yes_.’

 

Remus gave him a deadpan smile. ‘Not until you hurry on out of here, then I’ll _lap_ you ‘til your knees are jelly.’

 

Sirius barked out a laugh, elbowing Remus. Remus elbowed him back. Then he snapped apart more chocolate for them to share.

 

When they were both stuffed with sugar, Remus’ fingers tangled with Sirius’ in his lap.

 

‘Listen,’ Remus said quietly. ‘I know you’ll always have a thing for James, but I can’t lose you because of your thing for James, okay?’

 

Sirius nuzzled Remus’ neck, and Remus rested his head on Sirius’. ‘You won’t.’

 

Remus slung his arm across Sirius’ back, his thumb gently rubbing around the scars he’d left on Sirius’ spine.

 

Remus felt warm like nothing else did anymore. Sirius couldn’t quite separate the feeling of _Remus_ from the heat that suffused him, burning away the chill that had lodged inside him. Remus was solid weight against his side, as he’d been for years. As he always would be when someone needed him. Sirius couldn't fathom the idea that Remus was _waiting_ for something; that there was anything ulterior in the dependability of his presence. And Sirius adored him for it, for the chocolate on his tongue and the wry smiles Sirius could tempt from him; for the guilt-ridden hope Remus had once dared to voice that Sirius would be by his side every full moon; for the way Remus cried when he was happy and laughed when he was upset—though Sirius couldn't understand that at all. As the cold of the lake had crept into him it had cracked open something else—something that Sirius realised had nothing to do with the frequency of Remus’ visits or the things he’d said to James last night. It was already there. He couldn't imagine it _not_ being there.

 

If James was the sun, Sirius knew he sometimes flew too close. James was gravity, and light. Remus was nothing less than that. He was comforting, cosy, and lovely. James was the sun—and Remus was a crackling hearth.

 

Remus’ head sunk heavier against Sirius’. He’d fallen asleep.

 

Sirius cradled him there a while, tracing the little lines along his palm. He could have kept him there the night, or forever, but when Madam Pomfrey came around to turn on the lights, he nudged Remus awake. Remus grumbled, burrowing closer to him, but Sirius reminded him he had dinner, and a detention after that. ‘Go,’ he urged him. ‘You don’t want to be stuck in make-up detentions when I’m finally free.’

 

Remus squeezed his hand and took the leftover chocolate with him. Sirius followed his steps on the map, and noticed, down the shortcut, that James was coming back.

 

James was fresh off the pitch, the rich scent of sweat and leather radiating from him. His cheeks were flushed and his eyes were bright. His hair was absolutely ridiculous.

 

‘We’re going to win,’ was the first thing he told Sirius. ‘If you’re out and watching us, Padfoot, I know we’re going to win.’

 

Sirius hugged him fiercely and ruffled his hair even worse. ‘You’ll win anyway.’

 

‘Not an option,’ James replied. ‘You’re almost better. I can tell.’

 

Sirius nearly told him it was because of Remus. Then he realised he didn’t want to—much less did he know how. James was blazing with energy and Sirius still couldn’t tell him he’d overheard their argument.

 

‘I flew my best all summer with you around,’ James told him, leaning against the headboard of Sirius’ bed.

 

‘You do everything better when you know someone’s watching,’ Sirius teased.

 

‘When I know _you’re_ watching,’ James corrected him.

 

Sirius had untangled himself from the blankets, and he could feel James’ eyes on him. He reminded himself that James was always like this after flying—and Sirius was always like this after James had been flying.

 

‘I’d better keep watching then, hadn’t I,’ he said quietly, shifting. James’ eyes followed the movement like he was a Snitch.

 

‘I s’pose you had,’ James murmured. He glanced up at the door of Madam Pomfrey’s office. ‘Where’s Moony tonight?’

 

‘He went to detention.’

 

‘You convinced him to go to detention?’ James grinned. ‘He really would do anything for you.’

 

‘Any of us would,’ Sirius reasoned, though he knew what James was angling at.

 

‘He loves the hell out of you,’ James insisted. ‘And not just enough to do detention. I mean, you deserve—’

 

‘James, _don’t_ ,’ Sirius said sharply.

 

‘What’s wrong?’ James frowned, moving closer. He drew Sirius’ chin up so they were facing.

 

‘It’s just something stupid that Wormtail said,’ Sirius muttered.

 

James sighed, tucking Sirius’ hair behind his ear. ‘Well… we all say stupid things, sometimes. I know I do.’

 

Sirius nodded. The smell of James was heady, everywhere now, and he found his gaze drifting from James’ eyes, down to his mouth. James wasn’t moving away, in spite of what he’d just said about Remus.

 

‘Is this stupid?’ Sirius murmured.

 

‘I don’t know,’ James breathed. ‘I don’t know. I just—I love you, too. I don’t care if it’s stupid.’

 

Sirius sighed. ‘Listen. I’m never going to be your mermaid princess…’

 

‘Sirius, don’t say that,’ James laughed, even as he sounded sincere. His eyes were closed. ‘You’re…’

 

‘No, let me finish,’ Sirius said, even as his nose was tracing along James’ cheekbone, even as James was angling himself in that inevitable harmony with Sirius. ‘This stupid thing we do: you, me, Remus. I don’t want it to stop.’

 

Sirius took a deep breath, and as his mouth fell open, James’ did too. He pressed on: ‘Do you?’

 

James kissed him. It was fierce, breathless, and over too soon—he pressed their foreheads together—‘Whatever it is, I want to. I want to.’

 

Sirius nodded, and their lips caught once more. Summer didn’t have to end today.

 

And it didn’t—not really. He was out by the Halloween feast like he’d promised. James and Remus gave him a truly spectacular birthday celebration that required looking up the most advanced silencing charm they could find and a very creative use of the Incarcerous spell. Gryffindor trounced Slytherin in the match, and they didn’t find buried treasure in the Forest but it didn't matter at all. As James said; the real treasure was the friendship they made along the way—before Sirius and Remus tried to suffocate him with a pillow.


	13. Chapter 13

‘I didn’t know you called the lake The Incident,’ James confesses.

 

‘I didn’t know you called transfiguring into a girl for one evening an Incident,’ Sirius replies, but the tone of his voice is light.

 

‘I thought it was just because we got the school rules changed,’ James leans his head on Lily’s shoulder with a distant look. ‘It didn’t _seem_ like a big deal at the time.’

 

Lily squeezes James’ shoulders as he curls in on himself.

 

Very quietly, Remus says: ‘He stopped breathing on the second night.’

 

‘... I did?’ Sirius twists to stare at Remus.

 

‘No he didn’t,’ James snaps in disbelief. 

 

‘Did I?’

 

Remus nods. Sirius whistles through his teeth.

 

‘You never said,’ James murmurs.

 

‘I didn’t like to think about it,’ Remus answers. Before the silence can draw out too long, he adds to Sirius: ‘Fortunately, you’ve kept breathing since then. Sometimes quite loudly, in my ear, when you’re fast asleep.’

 

Sirius kicks him gently. ‘And kept you in slabs of chocolate ever since.’

 

‘Have you just told me what my Christmas present is?’ Remus smirks.

 

‘No, it’s a _surprise_ ,’ Sirius insists, while theatrically mouthing the words: ‘ _It’s chocolate_.’

 

(It is, in fact, a monogrammed suitcase, but with a block of chocolate inside.)

 

‘Which reminds me,’ Lily says. ‘There’s puddings and things for you. James, be a _deer_? Pack up the hampers? I’m sure Sirius will help.’

 

‘Sirius would _love_ to help,’ Sirius affirms, clambering off the couch and tucking his half of the blanket snugly around Remus before he can grouse about it again. ‘Sirius is going to take every last biscuit in your kitchen.’

 

He helps James to his feet, and James pulls him into a tight hug. ‘I’m sorry I almost drowned you in the lake,’ he mumbles, a little drunkenly. ‘I really fucked up.’

 

Sirius pats him on the back. ‘It’s fine. I mean, we did really fuck up, but you don’t need to hug me now.’

 

‘Let him hug you,’ Remus suggests.

 

Sirius holds James tight. ‘It’s probably better that you’re hugging me now, because my ribs aren’t broken, but I’m not actually in peril anymore.’

 

As they leave for the kitchen, Peter gives them a sidelong look of suspicion. Lily and Remus do not, so Sirius ignores him.

 

James loads up the counter with food—including extra biscuits for Sirius—which Sirius distributes into a pair of baskets. Laughter trickles in from the living room while James rummages through a cupboard. Sirius leans over him with light from his wand, and James makes a victorious noise before emerging with three jars of marmalade.

 

Finally, James takes two calico-wrapped fruit puddings and Sirius hollows spaces for them in the hampers.

 

‘I didn't know you overheard that argument.’ James’ face falls into shadow without Sirius’ wand illuminating it.

 

‘Does it matter anymore?’ Sirius asks, leaning back against the counter.

 

James shrugs, leaning toward him. ‘Maybe. I suppose not.’

 

Sirius could bracket James with his shoulders, but he doesn't: James simply fits between them, fingers loose on Sirius' arm.

  
Because James is like gravity.

  
Sirius feels the warmth of James’ breath on his lips again, James’ lashes tickling his cheek where they flutter shut, and he leans in, lingering, the rich smell of him and the heat radiating from him, a sigh Sirius knows he can always draw from James in that moment—the moment before they kiss.

 

Sirius isn’t sure which of them pulls away first: it’s better that way, really. James gives him a wry smile, not trying to deny that it almost happened, but the moment passes as easily as it had come. It’s always going to be like this.

 

So they take a hamper each back to the living room, and there are rounds of sherry-drunk hugs goodbye; of thanks for the stories; of merry Christmases wished for the morning. Sirius is struck, momentarily, by the realisation that this is what Christmas ought to feel like.

 

He goes home, and home is with Remus.


End file.
